The Scrapbook
by FreundlichFizzo
Summary: COMPLETE! Sequel to Lover in a Cheap Title, Summary inside . Canon Eiri/Shuichi. With Eiri imprisoned for Taki's murder how will Shuichi cope with their traumatised son? Writen as letters, emails, diary extracts and newspaper cuttings.
1. One Day Later

Disclaimer 

I don't claim to own Gravitation…never have

**A/N:** This is the long awaited sequel to the critically acclaimed "Lover is a Cheap Title" which I really really strongly recommend you read first! If you don't, not only will the following make no sense what so ever, but you will also spoil the ending of its prequel, which would be bad. Just paste this suffix on the end of the normal web address for this site. /s/3224594/1/

If you really can't be bothered, here are some chapter summaries so you can catch up quickly:

**3.41am **– Two years after the anime, Eiri is up at 3.41am trying to finish his autobiography, _Lover is a cheap Title_, before he retires. We read some short extracts from it (that sounds really dull but it isn't).

**Fading Direction **– Shuichi arrives home from a concert and scolds Eiri playfully for still being up so late. Shuichi persuades him to come to bed but at sunrise Eiri is on the balcony contemplating his future; he decides he will change his name back to Eiri Uesugi, dye his hair, and take up teaching.

**Revelations and Resolutions **– Nine months later, Shuichi and Hiro are in a café discussing Hiro's lyrics for the song he is going to perform to Ayaka at their wedding. Things get a little competitive until "Professor Uesugi" arrives with Tohma and they join them for coffee. Eiri's first day of teaching is tomorrow and he reveals that at the meeting he has just returned from they told him that one of the coursework texts for the English Literature course will be his own autobiography.

**First Day **– Eiri begins his teaching at Imperial College Tokyo; Thing's don't go too well and are complicated further when he finds out one of his students is called Naomi Aizawa.

**Perfection** – On a class theatre trip, Naomi lags behind to talk to him and he accidentally reveals his true identity. He too, confirms that she is Taki's younger sister when she asks what her brother did to make Eiri hate him so much.

**The Wedding Party ­**­- At Hiro and Ayaka's wedding, Naomi is there (probably a distant cousin of Ayaka or something…). She tries to persuade Eiri to dance and then, when he refuses, kisses him. Enraged, he drags her to a quiet corridor of the hotel and attempts to rape her saying "_What? This is what you want isn't it?"_ in an effort to show her the pain her brother caused. He is stopped suddenly by a gunshot which isn't actually a gunshot it's a balloon bursting but it brings back the memory on New York and he realises that he has become Kitazawa. Later in the bathroom Shuichi finds Eiri with lipstick on his mouth and, in his drunken fury, punches his lights out.

**Dried Blood and a Bitter Love Note** – Eiri wakes up from a coma 4 days later to find a letter from Shuichi saying he's leaving.

**The Day Before Yesterday** – Shuichi returns to work in a state after the wedding and Tohma persuades him to write the letter which Eiri read in the previous chapter. A week later, Tohma goes to visit Eiri who is awake but still pretending to be in a coma, Tohma unwittingly confesses that it's his fault Shuichi is leaving. Swearing and fighting ensue, naturally.

**Foudroyée, Mais Avec un Sourire** – When he is discharged Eiri goes to find Shuichi; he is at a photo shoot at the top of the Eiffel Tower, Paris, as part of their European Tour. Eiri finally says he loves Shuichi and smiles genuinely for the first time.

**A New Beginning** – On the way back to the hotel on the Metro Shuichi is pick pocketed by a blonde six year old. The boy's mother returns the wallet but she recognises Eiri and reveals…

…**But Not as Cheap as Hooker **– …That the boy, Pierre, is Eiri's son. She was a prostitute he slept with when he was 19. He invites her to stay with them in Tokyo for a while which Shuichi is not too happy about.

**The Unfinished Chapters **– Eiri is working on another novel now that he has rediscovered his talent when Adèle comes in and attempts to seduce him. He goes along with it until his head hits the desk where the scar from the fight with Shuichi is still raw and comes to his senses. Mika makes a brief and unimportant appearance, and Pierre runs away but is caught and returned by a mysterious and handsome man, Taki Aizawa, and he's not too happy to see Eiri.

**Reconciled and Broken** – Shuichi and Eiri are friends again because Shuichi heard him tell Adèle that he wouldn't sleep with her because he loves Shuichi. Adèle goes on a date with Taki but things turn nasty when he persuades her to help him publish an article that will expose Eiri as a rapist and an illegitimate father.

**Press Release** – The article is published and Eiri throws Adèle out. She goes to Taki's house with Pierre and, even though she hears him fighting with Naomi, she asks for a place to stay.

**Fatally Late **– A few weeks later Eiri goes to Taki's house to deliver Pierre's birthday present but he finds Adèle and Taki murdered, Naomi has escaped and Pierre is distraught. This brings back the memories of New York but this time he is in Tohma's role and realises why Tohma cares so much for him; because he loves him like a son.

Still sure you don't want to read it? OK, the following story is written as a series of newspaper extracts, letters and diary extracts (the sort of things you might keep in a scrapbook – hence the title) so look at dates and addresses and stuff. Here goes…

_**Chapter 1 - One Day Later**_

_Morning Newspaper – Thursday 5th December_

A FALLEN STAR

Former Rock Star and Girlfriend Found Dead in Own Home

Police officers were called to a house in suburban Tokyo late yesterday evening where a young couple were found dead and a small boy injured after what appeared to be a malicious assault. The male victim is believed to be Taki Aizawa, the lead singer of ASK; a band who experienced a short period of success three years ago but which came to a sudden and mysterious termination, the circumstances of which are still unknown, when they were dropped from N-G Records on the brink of fame.

Aizawa (25) suffered sever head injuries most likely inflicted by a fall down the flight of stairs he was found at the foot of. Adèle Camélias (22), his partner, died of as a result of a fatal stab wound to the abdomen although her son escaped relatively unscathed.

Their deaths are being treated as highly suspicious and police are currently searching for anyone who may have seen the attack. However, they are hindered by key witnesses who have yet to come forward and an appeal was issued today for any information relevant to these enquiries particularly regarding the whereabouts of Aizawa's sixteen year old sister, Naomi, who was last seen leaving college on the afternoon of her brother's death.

Medical staff at Jutendo Hospital have confirmed that Adèle's son is recovering well in hospital despite significant psychological trauma and suspected sexual abuse. Police are questioning one suspect who cannot be named for legal reasons. The investigation continues.

* * *

**INBOX // **4 Unread Messages

**FROM:** Eiri Uesugi **TO:** Shuichi Shindou

**SUBJECT**: Why I am not home tonight… **DATE: **05/Dec/2007 00:22am

Shuichi,

I guess you've noticed by now I'm not at home. I'm at the hospital - in the cyber café, clearly. So don't panic. I'm not sick. Why isn't your phone on? I don't really know how to tell you this; it's too surreal, I don't even believe it myself and I saw it with my own eyes. I guess it's like one of those things you have to read in the newspaper before it feels real.

Adèle's dead. Taki's dead. I'm sorry to be so blunt but I'm not in the mood to break it to you gently. Not that you'd be too sad about it anyway. Everything seems like a dream and a nightmare at the same time, but it isn't really either of them because if it was a dream I'd be happy and if it was a nightmare I'd be upset. I don't feel anything; just empty, and numb, and tired. I'm not cruel enough to take pleasure in Taki's death, however much I hated him, but I'm not sad that he died – he deserved it. Then there's Adèle; she didn't deserve it. I know he made her talk to the journalists, it wasn't her fault. I think he killed her.

I went to their house yesterday afternoon to deliver Pierre's birthday present and I found Taki at the bottom of the stairs and then Adèle was on the landing, bleeding everywhere, I reckon he stabbed her and then she pushed him down the stairs. That's what's so cruel; he died on impact but she suffered, life leaching out slowly as she listened helplessly to her son's crying. She was still alive when I got there. I tried to call an ambulance but she died in my arms. Maybe she finally felt it was safe to let go when she knew there was someone to take care of Pierre.

I don't know what caused their row, but I have some idea. It was the way Pierre was crying when I found him, I've heard that cry before, I've heard it from my own mouth. I may be wrong; it takes less to make a 7 year old cry like that than a 16 year old. I don't want to believe it but I know I'm right. Fatherly instinct, eh?

A father. It feels like I'm finally realising what it means to be a father. Right now the only thing that's important is Pierre. He just lost his mother, on his birthday too, and who knows what else he's gone through. I hope you can understand that he really must be my priority at the moment.

Meet me here as soon as you can. And bring some things he might need; pyjama's, a toothbrush, wash kit. Shit. I don't know how to take care of a kid! Anything you think he might need, pack it into the holdall under our bed. A French phrasebook perhaps? I know this is going to be the start of a long struggle but we'll get through.

I should go. The police want to speak to me and I hope they'll be quick because I want to be there when Pierre wakes up from his sedation.

See you soon.

Eiri.

* * *

**INBOX // **0 Unread Messages

**FROM:** Shuichi Shindou **TO:** Eiri Uesugi

**SUBJECT**: REPLY-"Why I am not home tonight…" **DATE:** 05/Dec/2007 06:45am

Hi Eiri!

Sorry I didn't reply sooner, I got in really late from the concert last night and just crashed. I didn't even notice you weren't there! I did see it in the papers this morning. I looked for it just after I got your e-mail. I can't believe you practically saw it happen! It's kind of cool; not that being in the paper is anything new to us ;-) Do you know who the suspect is? There's sure to be a big investigation.

I'm being so insensitive! Bad Shuichi! I don't mean to sound cold but I'm quite relieved they're both out of the picture. Perhaps with Adèle gone we can be a proper family – You, me and Pierre. But like you said, Pierre is most important now and we have to look at his immediate recovery not get carried away with our long-term dreams. It'll be difficult; adoption is a tough process especially given our situation and then there's the language barrier and what the papers are calling "_significant psychological trauma and suspected sexual abuse_" but he'll be in safe hands, if anyone knows how to deal with that you do :-)

I don't know anything about kids!! I did babysitting once when I was a teenager, they ran riot! I had to phone their parents to come and rescue me from the garden where they locked me out. The house was a bombsite, I didn't get paid and I didn't get any more offers after that surprisingly. I'll try and pack something useful and catch a taxi ASAP. You must be exhausted.

Don't stress. I'm sure everything will be alright.

Lots and lots of love,

Shuichi.

x x x x x


	2. One Week Later

Disclaimer 

I don't own Gravitation

And I forgot to mention, this is once again for Laura and Anna.

_**Chapter 2**__** - One Week Later**_

_Morning Newspaper__ –Friday 13__th__ December_

YUKI EIRI ARRESTED

Best-selling Novelist Detained in Connection with Murder Inquest

Yesterday, romance novelist Yuki Eiri, famed not only for his remarkable talent in writing but also his notorious lifestyle, has today been named as the suspect in the current investigation into the murders of Taki Aizawa and Adèle Camélias; a young couple who were discovered dead by police inspectors in their suburban home last Wednesday.

Yuki is reported to have been first on the scene when emergency services were contacted and was found with Adèle's son of whom his is the father. Adèle and her son had been living with Yuki and his partner, Shuichi Shindou (22), just days before the attack and investigators suspect his violent assault may have been fuelled by jealousy of her relationship with Aizawa. Aizawa and Yuki have a long history of rivalry since ASK fought for top positions in the charts against Bad Luck – the band of which his partner is the lead singer – and more recently contention between the pair peaked again when Aizawa and Camélias were involved in the publication of some less reputable aspects of his character.

In an interview a fortnight ago the deceased revealed the consequences of Yuki's promiscuous relationships including the birth of his illegitimate son whom he abandoned with his prostitute mother before he was born. In the article, Aizawa also made allegations of the rape of his younger sister at the wedding of Yuki's ex-fiancé and Bad Luck's guitarist, Ayaka and Nakano Hiroshi, two months ago while in a teaching position at the Imperial College Tokyo. These accusations are currently being examined.

Yuki faces charges of two counts of murder, one of rape while in a position of authority and another of sexual abuse of a minor as medical staff at Jutendo Hospital, where the young boy injured in the attack is being treated, believe he was the victim of a sexual assault. If convicted, Yuki will face a sentence of, at minimum, life imprisonment.

This news has devastated male and female fans of his novels alike, many of whom were shocked by such terrible accusations made against the charming and captivating star.

Yuki was unavailable for comment although Shindou shouted furiously at reporters; "He's innocent I tell you! Innocent!" while being restrained by the band's manager. Aizawa's home, the scene of the crime, has been cordoned off pending forensic investigation and police continue to search for his sister Naomi whose witness account could be crucial to the inquest. The investigation continues.

_

* * *

_

_Friday 13__th__ December_

My Dearest Eiri,

Arrested! What were they thinking! I'm being hounded by Paparazzi worse than ever when I'm not at the hospital. I feel such a fool; all my dumb questions about who the suspect was and all along it was you. No wonder you were so tense yesterday, freezing every time we heard the ambulance sirens outside. I just can't believe it! I guess the police have got to be seen to be doing something; they've got no witnesses and the only suspect is completely innocent. I know we both had reasons to dislike Taki but neither of us would ever go that far and you'd have to be mad to make your own son go through this. It's all madness!

They'll be doing some serious apologising when you get out. Friday the 13th, unlucky for some but I'm not worried. You'll be back with us in a few days and once the initial shock dies down K always says any publicity is good publicity. I'm more worried about how this will affect Pierre's recovery; his condition is extremely delicate at the moment and the last thing he needs is more stress. The police just marched into the ward and arrested you, handcuffs and all, right in front of the children. The nurses were absolutely livid!

Pierre misses you. I don't think he really understands what's going on. Just after you left he threw the most enormous tantrum. He's like a different child when he does that; he doesn't see or hear anything around him he just gets lost in his own world, kicking and writhing and flailing and screaming, completely unstoppable, like he's fighting some terrible devil. And then he just stopped; dead still, and sobbed silently into the pillow for hours.

He was better this afternoon though. He was out of bed and walking up and down the ward. He just stands and stares at the other children, I reckon they think he's creepy; it must be tough because he can't speak to them but I've been working with the French translator to teach him some Japanese. He was never a very cooperative kid!

He's started eating again too. Just dry rice, but it's the first time he's not chucked it up straight away. The doctor said if he doesn't have another fit and continues to improve like he is we can have take him home to our apartment next Monday. We'll be visiting the psychiatrist in the outpatients department for months of course but it'll be great to all be home together.

Hugs and Kisses,

Shuichi.

x x x x x

_

* * *

_

_Sunday 15__th__ December_

Dear Shuichi,

It's wonderful to hear Pierre is recovering well. It might have helped if you hadn't made such a scene at the hospital. The police would have been quite happy to wait outside and send a messenger to fetch me but when you started trying to hold them back and yelling I'm surprised they didn't arrest you too. "_If you want to take him you'll have to take me too_"? Honestly Shuichi, this isn't some American cop drama. You did look a fool.

Home tomorrow? Are things still going as planned? I'm not sure I really want you two wreaking havoc all over my apartment while I'm not there. You can't cook, in case you've forgotten. And no, you can't do takeaways every night before you ask. Seriously though, I know you'll take good care of him while I'm away. I do trust you.

Things aren't going so well here. I certainly won't be out for tomorrow, that's for sure. I've been interviewed three or four times, I don't think my defence is holding up particularly well; I've got a motive and no alibi. But I've told them what I know and I can't do more than tell the truth. There isn't really anyone to convict, they killed each other; unless there was another intruder there but I can't think of anyone else with a grudge against them. Actually, that's a lie, there are probably thousands of people who'd want to kill Taki but he wasn't the one they wanted, they just pushed him down the stairs to get him out of the way. Adèle was the real victim which doesn't make any sense because she doesn't know anyone here. Perhaps forensics will solve this mystery at last. I won't deny it's frustrating but I'll be home as soon as I can.

While I'm here I am finding some benefits to my prison abode; perhaps it's just my masochistic side coming out. There's plenty of privacy for a change. I'd almost forgotten what life was like without the press trailing us everywhere; I don't even have a window in my cell. It's also a relief not to have to clean and cook and tidy up after you. I just sit and repent what I allegedly did all day long. If killing people gets me a week's holiday I'll have to do it more often.

I have a feeling my enjoyment may start to decline if I stay much longer; the food's not great to say the least. And I miss you.

Affectionately always,

Eiri.

* * *

_From the desk of Tohma Seguchi. N-G Records CEO._

_Monday 16__th__ December_

Dear Eiri,

What a mess you've got yourself into! It reminds me of when you were a teenager, nothing as serious as this of course, but you were always getting into trouble. I don't think anyone is sorry Taki's dead, but I'm sorry about Adèle. I know things can't be easy at the moment, be brave, you'll be out in no time. I have all the best lawyers I know working on your case. The worst thing you can do is give up hope and there's certainly no reason to do that. The battle is not won yet but it is also far from being lost.

Shuichi brought Pierre to visit his aunt and uncle today; he's more like you than even you could know, so endearingly sullen and you look alike too. He's ever so quiet. If there's any reason to keep fighting it's your son, he needs you now more than ever.

Anyway, what I really wanted to do in this letter was invite you for Christmas dinner with Mika and me. I did ask Shuichi but he's such a scatterbrain I thought I'd best clear it with you as well. I'll forgive you if you don't have time to get me a gift!

Never give up hope!

Yours truly,

Tohma.

**A/N:** Hate to be a killjoy but review now OR DIE!!! OK, maybe you won't die but I'll stop writing which could be worse depending on where your priorities lie. Just ten seconds to tell me if you like it or not...pretty please :-D


	3. One Month Later

Disclaimer 

I don't own Gravitation

_**Chapter **__**3 - One Month Later**_

_Morning Newspaper - Sunday 5__th__ January_

YUKI IN COURT OVER MURDER CHARGES

Yuki Eiri Faces Overwhelming Evidence Supporting his Accusations of Murder

Popular romance novelist Yuki Eiri, whose real name is Eiri Uesugi (25), pleaded innocent in court yesterday on the first day of what is sure to be one of the most arduous and high-profile cases of the century.

Yuki's career began when his debut novel reached the top 10 six years ago at just 19 years old and his success continued unabated as many of his subsequent novels spent weeks at the number 1 spot while he developed a notorious reputation as a Lothario with the ladies. With the delicate sensibility and clarity of vision used to portray his powerful love stories he was the obvious choice for the winner of the Naoki Award and his popularity reached an all-time high three years ago, no doubt helped by his infamous relationship with rock star boyfriend Shuichi Shindou of Bad Luck. Early last year however, he suffered a blow as his latest work was not received well by critics and after publishing his autobiography, _Lover is a Cheap Title_, in April he succumbed to the pressures from younger talent fighting for his top positions.

It was thought that the trial would have to be suspended as Uesugi's health seemed to be suffering from the stress of the court case which he claimed was aggravating dormant psychological conditions; nevertheless, when examined by doctors he was certified as fit to appear before the jury.

Uesugi defended his innocence as he stood in the docks in front of an audience packed with relatives and press. He faces charges of murder, rape and sexual abuse. His appearance was distinctly worse for wear compared to the handsome, sophisticated star seen so many times in the papers over the past weeks; clearly signs of a man struggling with the conflicts and anxieties surrounding his current situation.

After a days work the case is still far from reaching a conclusion although friends and family maintain a strong belief in his innocence. Outside the court Uesugi's brother-in-law, Tohma Seguchi best known as president of N-G Records, told journalists "I have absolutely no question about Eiri's innocence. This whole affair has been exaggerated by overzealous journalists and there is no doubt that he will be home with us soon; I'd put my reputation on it". The trial continues.

_

* * *

_

_Monday 6__th__ January_

My Dearest Eiri,

Pierre is a nightmare! He wakes up in the middle of the night because of bad dreams; he screams; he wets the bed and then comes into my room, bleating away in bloody French. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help shouting at him! That makes him cry even harder, I'm sorry. It's so hard! He wakes me up, a split-second of blissful ignorance, and then I see him and I remember you're not here! And it's all I can do not to bawl like he does.

Every night I wash him down, I change his clothes, I change his sheets and then we sit together in the morning gloom. I cradle his thin clammy body across my lap with his head on my shoulder, paralysed with shuddering sobs. I listen to his heartbeat through the sound of my own silent tears sliding into his hair; I feel him calming down, his sobbing fading, his breathing slowing. And in the cold grey sunrise, when he falls asleep, I realise how much he means to me.

I do think I love him. I love him because he's the closest thing I have to you now. You need to be here. You should be the one doing this, not me. You're his father.

He's not normal Eiri, he's damaged. Not physically; it's like it's in his brain. No, that sounds like he's brain damaged, it's deeper than that. He's not like other kids. He's not even like the kid he was before. He doesn't talk much but he doesn't play either or do anything at all really. Honestly, I'd prefer him to be naughty like he used to be so I can be sure he's the same boy. He stands and stares and never gets bored of just watching stuff.

I can see his mother in his grey eyes. I don't know if he can see her too; shadows reflected on their glassy lenses, a blurred trace of a memory. But I can't ask him. He can't tell me what's wrong. That's what's so frustrating! It would only take the slightest trigger, a glimpse of a photograph, a whispered word in comfort, a sympathetic touch and all his memories could all come rushing back. Rupturing the tear ducts sealed by weeks of psychiatric therapy. I'm walking on broken glass, live wires, the edge of a knife blade: One wrong move…

It scares me. He scares me.

I think that I can face him sometimes. I see his soft blonde fringe hanging limply over his forehead and a sprinkling of freckles across his pinched cheeks – almost adorable. And then he lifts his long lashes, turns his sorrowful grey gaze on me; empty and hollow like tunnels I can see though to his suffering. He looks so like you and yet he's so completely different. When I look into his eyes I can see Adele, and Taki, and I see the reasons we can't be together. Everyday I'm reminded of what he did. I hate it! I hate him! I hate Pierre! It's too hard not to blame him.

Why can't you be here? Where are you when I need you? When you son needs you? I know you would know what to do but I can't cope alone. Things are falling apart and they never fitted together that well in the first place. I can patch it together as best I can with tape and glue but nothing holds and it'll never be quite the same as it was.

I know it's selfish and a bad line, but I'd give anything to be in your place right now, anything not to have to look after him. I miss you so much and I'm not ashamed to cry myself to sleep wondering if we'll ever be together again. I won't ever give up hope though. I know the jury will find out the truth and let you off, they have to! You're innocent! We'll be together as a family soon.

Hugs and Kisses,

Shuichi.

x x x x x

_

* * *

__Wednesday 8th__ January_

Dear Shuichi,

I saw you at the trial. Thank you for coming. I know you must have your hands full at the moment. I don't think they have enough evidence to convict me. Naomi still hasn't come forward as a witness. It all hangs on her testimony. I'm sure she left minutes before I arrived. There were bloodstains in her bedroom, not even dry yet, Taki must have attacked her too as she tried to leave. She must have been there; she must have seen what really happened. Even though this is partly her fault and she's the only one that can get me out of here I still hope she's safe somewhere.

They're a rough crowd in here but I've made a friend, if I can be lenient enough to apply that word. Clichéd threats like "_trust no-one_", "_it's a dog eat dog world_" and "_keep your friends close and your enemies closer"_ are slung round like a mantra, scratched into the sacred scriptures of the walls. You can't trust anyone, they're always there to double-cross you and stab you in the back the moment you slacken your guard.

I'm fairly sure Ryou is safe though; he's a computer hacker so no danger without a keyboard at his fingertips. He was behind several viruses which started off as pranks in school but things progressed as he got older he lost sight of the damage he was doing, the programmes got bigger and better until last year one scrambled the internet security system of a bank and a small fortune was stolen. The first thing he said to me when we met was "_Are you guilty?"_ and I said I wasn't so nothing more was said on the matter.

It feels like we're the only two in here with any intellect. We keep each other sane; that and your letters. Thanks for making time to write so often. I keep them with me all the time and I've read and reread them a thousand times. Every time I do it makes home seem a little bit closer.

Pierre will get better; it's just the trauma. You have to persevere and work though it together. Keep changing sheets and pyjamas and comforting him. Don't stress, it sounds like you're doing a fine job. You have to look at things from his perspective; it'll take a while for him to adjust to all the changes. I know what he's going through and I wish I was there to help you but you just have to trust me, the phase will pass with time. I turned out OK didn't I?

I'm sure Mika and Tatsuha will be more than happy to help you but don't pass him around like a bomb that's about to go off. He needs a stable environment and I know my not being there doesn't help but I'll be home as soon as I can.

The psychiatrist will probably tell you not to talk about what happened to him; they hope that he'll forget because he's so young but that way he'll keep it all locked up inside and it'll come back to haunt him when he's older. I wish someone had spoken to me. It would be best to face it head on now and work through the short-term regression than for him to suffer years into the future.

With all my love faithfully and forever,

Eiri.

* * *

_Thursday 9__th__ January _

Dear Tohma,

Sorry I couldn't make it at Christmas, unavoidable circumstances. I hope you had a wonderfully festive time. Mine was crap, thanks for asking. But I've never been a fan of the holidays anyway.

Please look after Shuichi for me. I know you two have never seen quite eye to eye but I can tell he's struggling and he needs your support. I can put a brave face on for him when he visits because he's got enough to deal with at the moment without my issues on top of it all; but in truth, I'm scared. More scared than I've ever been in my life.

I've been here for three weeks and we don't seem to be any closer to getting out. They're going to send me down aren't they? I can see it behind your fake smiles. If I am, I'd rather know now than you continue giving me false hopes. I've got a motive and no alibi, and my DNA is all over the bodies too. That's all they need. It's starting to feel like I might never come home.

Yours faithfully,

Eiri

**A/N:** Hello again! Thank you for all your lovely reviews!! On the whole people seem to like it, which is good, although I'm getting a lot of "interesting" and "different" which I suppose is better than "boring" and "the same" but in my vocabulary they are usually just polite ways of saying bad :-P

I'd also like to point out that I know nothing about psychology or law (probably something I should have considered before starting this!) so I know that some of this may be a little farfetched but I've seen worse offenders – Muggle mobile phones in the wizarding world, pfft!

This will be the last update before I go on my holidays. See you in the near future :-)

x x x x x


	4. Three Months Later

Disclaimer 

I don't own Gravitation

**A/N:** Woah! Slowest update eveer!! I'm so sorry to have left you hanging for so long! Malawi was amazing by the way; then there's House Music (not the 80s electronic dance music) which will also be amazing and school which is just not - but you don't want to know about that…

_**Chapter **__**4 - Three Months Later**_

_Thursday 3__rd__ March_

My Dearest Eiri,

We had to go to the hospital again yesterday. I tossed Pierre's coat across the cloakroom as usual. It took me a couple of seconds to notice that he wasn't bawling the place down like he usually does, he was just looking at me, watching every move with his brow furrowed so intently it was like he was seeing a human being for the first time or something! I wanted to shout, tell him to stop being a sheep and get a move on but he looked so innocent, harmless, curious, even a little afraid. So instead, I knelt down in front of him and slid the sleeves over his arms, fastened the buttons, one by one. And he was he still staring at my face the whole time, his expression softening slowly until he was gazing with eyes wide and awestruck.

It felt like no one had ever shown kindness to him before. I thought for a moment he might even smile. He did hold my hand all the way; his hot little fingers resting in the embrace of mine.

We _are_ making progress, I think. It's hard to see but in those rare moments we seem to almost understand each other. Don't get carried away though. Things _are_ getting better but it's not the same without you. I can't replace his father and I don't want to either because if I did, he wouldn't need you, so there would be no reason for you to come back. Pierre is what holds us together. People change in prison, and I know you may not want to come back for me but you will come for him. Every time I look at Pierre I remember that we're not together but I also remember that you will come back for him and, even if I'm left behind, you and he will be happy together.

Sorry, that was all a bit melancholy. It doesn't sound like me either. I'm changing, this is changing me. I don't think I'm so self-centred anymore; prison's no picnic for you and you're right, Pierre is having a far tougher time of it than I am. I have to be independent and sensible and grown-up! A responsible adult! Me!?

Life is hard work; I still miss you more than ever. Some people said it would get easier over time. The hours would roll into days, the days into weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years. But it doesn't. Every second we're apart I count down 60 into each minute and 3600 into each hour and they don't roll into days, or weeks, or months. They just tick past slower than they ever did.

It doesn't feel like you could be coming home tomorrow. I _am_ trying to be positive and it would be fantastic if you did but maybe I'm just not letting myself get carried away so I won't be disappointed if it all falls through. As much as I want you to come home (And I would give anything for that – even my signed edition of Nittle Graspers first single) I want you to know that if the worst comes to the worst, I think I can cope.

Pierre should be starting school next week. They've moved him back a year because of the language difficulties and the work he's missed but I think it'll be good for him to make friends. I'll have me more time to work at the studio too which I need because I can see Fujisaki's patience for my excuses is starting to wear thin.

Fingers crossed and best of luck for tomorrow!

Hugs and Kisses,

Shuichi.

* * *

_Celebrity Scoop Magazine! - Friday 4__th__ March_

VERDICT: GUILTY!

Hearts are Broken as the Gavel Falls on Yuki Court Case

It was a bleak day inside and outside the courthouse as Yuki Eiri was convicted of two counts of murder and given a life sentence of 35 years. Sheets of grey rain were slanting down between grey walls and spattering onto the grey road below. Only one splash of colour was visible beneath the shelter of the crowd of black umbrellas; a head of faded pink hair, rainwater trickling from the tendrils plastered to the sides of his face in sinuous veins which were joined by tributaries of tears flowing rapidly down from his eyes. As he watched his lover torn from him, Shuichi Shindou's (22) expression of despair could not have been further from that of Bad Luck's hyperactive lead singer.

The twenty-five year old was led, hand-cuffed, through the rain and flickering lightning of camera flash bulbs. He seemed too weak to show any sign of protest; eyes sunken behind the dark circles of insomnia and downcast, lashes heavy with guilt-ridden teardrops, unable to face the crowds. Disappointed and disgusted fans jeered insults and cowardly tears appeared running down his pinched cheeks, pale as his blonde hair, and mingling with rainwater. He looked like a lost child; helpless and afraid.

The novelist was convicted of the murders of Adèle Camélias (22) and Taki Aizawa (25) three months ago at their home in a normally peaceful district of suburban Tokyo. It is believed that a disagreement was sparked between love-rivals which resulted in their deaths: Camélias receiving a fatal stab wound to the abdomen and Aizawa dying from internal brain haemorrhaging after being pushed down a flight of stairs. Yuki was also charged with the rape of a young female student and sexually abusing Camélias' 7 year old son. However, he was acquitted of these accusations due to lack of evidence.

The defence held fast to the delusion of his innocence to the very end despite facing overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Yuki was found at the scene of the crime by his brother-in-law, and later by police inspectors, just minutes after the attack was estimated to have happened. Forensic investigation confirmed that the weapon was covered in Yuki's fingerprints and the emergency services provided a recorded call for an ambulance made from his mobile phone that was traced to their house before he was discovered – perhaps in a futile moment of remorse. It was also revealed during the trial that he has been prone to outbursts of violent behaviour in the past including his involvement in the car accident three years ago that cost Aizawa his singing career. The trial was hampered by the lack of witness testimonies including Naomi Aizawa, sister of the deceased, whose account could be vital in reaching a verdict over the other charges.

The judge presiding over the trial left his final sentiments as a bitter seal on Yuki's fate: "Life is not a novel Mr Uesugi. You cannot play God and control the life and death of other people as you can your characters. Perhaps it would do you good in future to distinguish between what is fiction, and what is reality."

* * *

_Saturday 5__th__ March_

Dear Tohma,

Thirty-five years. Thirty-five bloody years!? Is that really the best you could do? I thought if anyone had the connections to get out of a tight spot with the law it would be you and still, thirty-five years!? I'll be sixty by the time I get out! Pierre will be 42! I'll have grey hair and wrinkles and a dodgy back from sleeping on this damn concrete mattress every night. Or worse I may go completely senile – these four walls are already driving me slowly insane. Please! I'm begging you, you have to do something! Did you forget that I'm innocent? I don't deserve to be here! There has to be an appeal or something, there must be something you can do, anything! I can't waste my life in here.

Tohma, I'm worried about Shuichi. I've left him with my crazed retard of a kid and it would be tough enough for him to cope without me even if he didn't have Pierre to deal with. We'd have made terrible parents in the first place but he's on his own! He says he's coping and growing up but it doesn't sound like he is and I don't see him being a "responsible adult", not in a million years. Please look after him; help him when you can and, I know music is competitive, but you can see he needs time off. Do it for my sake.

He said some pretty disturbing things in his last letter. "People change in prison, and I know you may not want to come back for me" and "even if I'm left behind, you and he will be happy together". That doesn't sound like him does it? It's like he thinks I'll stop loving him and I'll just take Pierre and leave him when I get out. I miss him so much; if anything could make me love him more than I already do it's that he's looking after Pierre for me. He writes to me so often and it gives me hope that we'll be together as a family soon: I want that more than anything.

They'll tease you for anything and everything in here; not least because I'm famous, and a romance novelist, and openly bisexual, but right down to the being tall and skinny and blonde and even as low as "four eyes". It's not really a problem; it just brings back a few bad memories, that's all.

Please, please get me out of here.

Yours Faithfully,

Eiri


	5. Six Months Later

Disclaimer

I don't own Gravitation

_**Chapter **__**5 - Six Months Later**_

_Culture Review - Monday 5__th__ June_

JUNE BESTSELLER CHART

**NUMBER 1** Yuki Eiri: "_Reconciled and Broken_"

While some novelists might call it quits after being sentenced to thirty-five in prison, his recent trials and tribulations have shown to be no detriment to Yuki Eiri's writing. His reputation has, undoubtedly, been through the mill recently as he failed to impress critics with his last novel and then caused fervent speculations of his retirement with the publication of his autobiography "_Lover is a Cheap Title_". However, after what can hardly be described as a "sabbatical", he is out to redeem his position as Japan's best-selling novelist, albeit this time, from behind bars.

From headstands to holidays, I thought I'd heard every cure for writer's block but clearly the most effective appears to be solitary confinement in a four walled maximum security cell. His latest novel comes as a refreshing change from his clichéd romances; for the first time, Yuki approaches regions of tragedy previously achieved by Shakespeare and Seneca. No doubt drawing on his own regrettable circumstances, this beautifully composed masterpiece, set several years in the future, tells the story of a teenage Art student who falls in love with a schizophrenic but when the two eloping lovers who are separated in a world torn by a Third World War and the letters stop arriving, will he remember her when they are reunited? A tragic romantic thriller with the horror of _Jekyll and Hyde_, an all round Hot Summer Read.

* * *

_SmashHits Music Magazine - Monday 5__th__ June_

A TURN OF BAD LUCK FOR BAD LUCK

"_Novels/Lyrics"_ – Bad Luck (N-G Records) **2 out of 10**

Bad Luck's run of good luck had to stop sometime, and it seems this is it. Stadiums were awestruck by their stamina, label firms astounded by their success and inferior music acts fell weak-kneed, weeping, in worship of these iconic rock idols. But it seems all this has come to an end. For anyone who has been living with their head in a hole on Pluto for the last 6 months, I'll fill you in; Shuichi Shindou, lead singer, was hit hard by allegations of murder made against his lover and his eventual sentencing to 35 years in prison. Ever since, he has unprofessionally let his personal circumstances, however tragic, fetter his enthusiasm.

The teenage passion that fuelled Bad Luck's reign has been extinguished and without it, the flaws in their weak lyrics and predictable melodies are laid bare. It seems Shuichi is unable to sing about any subject other than his own broken heart; regardless of how thickly it is made up with metaphors, honestly, we're bored! Get over it! Wallowing in despair, this collection of 12 dire ballads is sure to find its way to the bottom of the rack. Its one redeeming feature is Hiro's spectacular solo on track 5, but combined with the dirge that makes up the other 58:49, the whole album blurs into an hour of dull pain.

Credit where credit's due, we should not let this latest disappointment taint what has other wise been a spectacular career. Any band with 9 albums under their belt would be hard-pressed to keep their sound fresh and distinct enough to compete in this dynamic business. Bad Luck has gone further than any group has gone before in creating a 21st century classic band, an epic musical legacy even, but, on this sad note, I am afraid to say it ends here.

* * *

_Friday 9__th __June _

My Dearest Eiri

Congratulations! I'll bet it feels good to be at the top of a bestsellers list again. I did read it. I really did! I read a novel for the first time in, well, it must be seven or eight years! I thought I might have forgotten how to but once I started I couldn't put it down; I cried all the way through. It's about us, isn't it?

It's a shame I can't say the same for Bad Luck. They didn't have to be quite so rude, did they? But they're right. We can't hold it together after this. I know we're heading for a break up. I don't know if I'm sad or not though; It's like I don't want to be part of the music business anymore - which is odd because I thought I wanted it more than anything – I want privacy, I want dignity, I want to be able to miss you without being called a wimp. I think we've stretched Bad Luck out for too long, things are starting to strain, relationships, tempers, and they've got to snap sometime.

I fetched Pierre from school when he bought home his report yesterday; he pulled it out of his bag sheepishly in the playground and handed over the sealed brown envelope; I can't describe how good it feels to slit it open and know that what's inside isn't about to earn you a grounding for the entire summer. I shook my head and tutted and then pretended to read aloud _"fail, fail, fail, fail"._ I regretted it immediately of course. He looked like he was about to burst into tears, although, that is how he looks most of the time. In hindsight, I guess I'm not surprised he fell for it; he's so innocent and gullible.

I backtracked pretty quickly, "_Only kiddin_g". First he looked confused and then the corners of his lips curled up slightly and when he saw that I was laughing a huge grin split across his face for the first time; baring his empty pink gums and a crooked combination of teeth somewhere between milky seeds and the study white cornels of adulthood. If anything makes our hard work worthwhile, it's not what the psychologist says or the school report – although that is proof on paper that he's doing better at school than I ever did – it's his smile, Eiri.. So genuine and beautiful. It made me cry. Happy tears and sad tears all at the same time.

He looks more and more like you everyday. Maybe it's just because I miss you, but when he smiled it was like it was you and me on the Eiffel Tower again. That genuine and beautiful smile! To think, I might never see it again. I tried to keep smiling for Pierre's sake but he could see the tears in my eyes so I knelt down and he wrapped his skinny arms round my neck. He didn't understand why I was so upset but I can't even explain it myself.

I felt happy, because we are coping and we are making progress but I felt sad because I still miss you so much and I wanted you to be there. I want you to be here! I can't be happy and sad at the same time, just somewhere in-between, and somewhere in-between two opposites is nowhere, nothing. Just emptiness.

That's how I feel most of the time now. Is that a good thing? Is this what it feels like to be grown up? It's like this is killing the child in me - which I guess is what growing-up is, right? I'm putting so much into bringing up Pierre that I can feel the life leeching out of me and into him. Every bit of progress he makes is just sucking it out of me. I don't get excited or passionate anymore. I used to have talent, I used to have big dreams, I used to have what was politely described as a _"healthy zest for lif_e" but was probably just juvenile hyperactivity. But I don't have those things anymore. Ambition is what gives life its purpose but the only thing I dream of is you coming home and the longer I wait the fainter it seems to fade. Expectations only ever lead to disappointment so I don't expect much anymore.

I feel a bit hollow and lost. I can't put it into words. It's the same with lyrics and stuff; I know there's a word that fits and rhymes, but I can never find it. It's an uncomfortable and frustrating feeling and I keep searching for something to fill the hole but the deeper I look the deeper I sink into my thoughts. It starts with a little worry like a lost word, then I think of Bad Luck, and Pierre, and you, and what a mess my life is, and I spiral down, out of control.

I've put Pierre's school report in for you to read and a poem they sent home. It's definitely better than I expected, but the poem worries me; is it just his imagination or do you think he knows more than he's letting on?

Hugs and kisses forever,

Shuichi.

* * *

**ANNUAL SUMMARY SCHOOL REPO****RT - **Pierre Camélias-Uesugi

**Yea****r: **2 **Form** **Teacher: **Miss Kobayashi

**Numeracy: ****B- **This term in Numeracy our pupils have been learning about basic addition and subtraction of fractions. Pierre's work has been of a constantly satisfactory standard and he has always achieved good marks in tests. His work is consistent with that of a pupil of a similar age even without the difficulties he has experienced because, of course, Mathematics is a universal language across the world. His behaviour in lessons has been fair but, to improve, he should always complete his homework assignments for the deadline.

**Literacy: ****A+ **Pierre's work in Literacy over the past year has been outstanding considering his difficult background. He has made excellent improvements in reading and writing – particularly in creative writing which it is clear he has inherited a talent for from his father. This term we have been learning about poetry including reading the works of other poets and writing some of our own; Pierre has shown an advanced understanding of rhyme, rhythm and several basic literary devices which he has been able to employ in his own work. His story writing show a vivid imagination and his work is always coherently organised. He has been a pleasure to teach and I hope his progress will continue in the future.

**Studies (Humanities and Sciences): B+ **Pierre has approached our Science work over the past year with interest and his knowledge has developed soundly which has been demonstrated through several good pieces of written work. He is hampered, unfortunately, by an overactive imagination and illogical trains of thought that lead to misunderstandings.

**Physical Education: C **This term in PE our pupils have composed and performed group routines including balances and gymnastic locomotion. Pierre's behaviour in lessons has been lacking enthusiasm and he seems unwilling to cooperate in a team which - although may be partly attributed to language difficulties - is an area that I am politely requesting could be addressed before the autumn term.

**Behaviour: C- **Pierre's behaviour overall this year has been less than satisfactory. Although he shows a reclusive and introspective temperament, this can come across as stubborn and even, on occasions, very rude. On a one-to-one basis, he appears a sweet but shy child but he has a tendency to be lead astray by others which has made it difficult for him to make friends. His approach to work shows a lack of interest and enthusiasm, except in Literacy, but he has shown some improvements in other subjects recently as he is overcoming language barriers and adjusting to life at school.

**Final Comments:** We hope this has highlighted the areas that need to be improved but otherwise, a pleasing report. Well done!

**SUMMER TERM POETRY PROJECT – The Tiger**

_Orange of a tiger,_

_Orange of a blaze,_

_Orange of anger, _

_Waiting to rage._

_Green of the luscious jungle,_

_Green of his watchful eye._

_Green of a rustling leaf,_

_On which he does spy._

_Black of sins committed,_

_Black of the dark night,_

_Black of the prison bars,_

_Holding those not done right._

_St__rong paws push off from the ground._

_Silent footsteps slink to a corner._

_Claws uncurl, sharp as razors._

_Weapon raised he waits for his victim._

_Eight claws puncture the flesh._

_A single stab takes an innocent life. _

_He rips away chunks of meat._

_Stabbing again at the empty body. _

By Pierre Camélias-Uesugi

* * *

_Sunday 11__th__ June_

Dear Shuichi,

The novel is not about us. Maybe I did draw a little from personal experience – before you, I wouldn't have known what it would be like to not have someone you wanted. But I would hate for you to assume that what I say in my novel is how I think we will end. You are not an art student; there is no Third World War imminent to my knowledge, I really do hope I am not schizophrenic and I promise, I will never, never forget you.

It feels good to write again. You can't think too hard about anything in here, because if you did you'd go crazy within a week, but when I write I can escape from this hell briefly to my realm of poetic delusions. That's why it's so graphic and intense; it's easy to escape because there isn't much to tempt me back to reality.

I'm so proud of you. Everything you tell me reminds me of how much I love you. I read the poem and the report. I'm pretty sure the teachers are right; he just has a vivid imagination, which he also gets from me. It sounds like you've let yourself get run down recently. You should see a doctor if you're depressed and take some time off work, I wish I could be there to help you and it hurts so much to know that I can't. Take it one day at a time; keep your mouth above the surface, don't rest, but don't forget to keep breathing.

All my love faithfully and forever,

Eiri.

* * *

Dear Tohma, 

I'm going mad Tohma. I really am. And I can't tell Shuichi. I keep lying to him to cover it up and pretend I'm OK but that just makes it worse.

I lay awake at night raking through the details in my mind, back and forth, rereading the evidence, over and over. I go into the house again on that Wednesday afternoon, knock on the door, walk up the path, slam the car door shut and get out. I see their bodies, all three that I killed, still imprinted on my memory even when my eyes are open. Haunting my nightmares even when I'm awake. Not just in Tokyo; I remember New York too.

I've relived it so many times it's hard to remember what it's like to think anything else. I see the police, paramedics, photographers, newspaper reporters, more police and then I remember a few hours I spent as a father by a hospital bed with a son who was barely conscious enough to remember my name, before we were torn apart. Sometimes I start to feel sorry for what I did. The commotion over the article would have died down after a few days and if Taki wants Adèle he's welcome to her. And then I remember, I didn't do it! I didn't do anything wrong! They pointed the finger so hard, so many times, dug it so deep into my ribs that it feels like I'm guilty but I'm not!

But, then again, maybe I did do it. Surely the law can't get it so wrong that they would sentence an innocent man, can they? Maybe I've got amnesia, or schizophrenia and it really was me, I just don't remember. It wouldn't surprise me; I have every other syndrome and disorder and complex in the book. Perhaps my body acted without fully engaging my brain. That's how it feels most of the time. We are two separate things. My body on autopilot following a daily routine and my mind lagging sluggishly behind, thick with stagnant thoughts.

Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm really awake. Maybe I'm asleep, maybe I'm in a coma, maybe I'm dead, like in some cheap horror film that the script writer couldn't end properly so in the last scene they reveal we were all just ghosts and none of the last 120 minutes happened. If I am dead, this is hell.

I get these feelings sometimes. The only way I can describe it is like someone, somewhere has stopped time and then restarted it so no one else knows. My mind blanks, but I'm still in the same place I was before and I know how I got there and why I'm there and what I was doing every second up to the blank. I'm still thinking the same thoughts as I was before but it feels different. It feels like I could have been sat still for hours and hours but at the same time it feels like milliseconds. Has anyone mastered time travel yet? It wouldn't surprise me if they have. I've been in this bubble so long I don't care what goes on in the rest of the world.

If I haven't died, I think this feels a lot like how it would feel to be dead. I'm certainly not alive.

Yours truly,

Eiri.

Disclaimer

I should probably also mention that I don't own _SmashHits_ and Pierre's poem belongs to my good friend, Melton J Rigby.


	6. One Year Later

Disclaimer 

I don't own Gravitation

_**One Year Later**_

_SmashHits Music Magazine – Monday 4__th__ December_

BAD LUCK SPLIT!

Musical legends Bad Luck have decided to end their career and, perhaps in the best interests of the public, no longer inflict the dire mess of their latest album on us. 40 top ten hits, 26 number one hits and nine bestselling albums was an impressive repertoire for the teenage trio following their high school flunk but after four years at the top of the charts N-G records today called a press conference to officially announce the disbandment of their most successful act ever.

At one of their last public appearances, I interviewed two thirds of the band (unfortunately Shuichi Shindou was unavailable for comment), guitarist Nakano Hiroshi (23) and synthesiser player Suguru Fujisaki (20), to find out if the break-up really was as mutual as they made out.

_Interviewer:_ Do you feel Shindou let you down? If he hadn't been so tied up in his personal circumstances you might not be where you are today.

_Sug__uru Fujisaki_: Of course we do. Shuichi cou-

_Hiroshi__ Nakano_: -Would have to be a cruel man to value fame and money over his own happiness. We're getting a lot of this from the press, wanting us to rat him out but I don't believe he let us down at all.

_Interviewer: _Are you serious? Surely you're just sticking up for him because he's your best friend. Sugaru, you obviously have something to say on the matter.

_Sug__uru Fujisaki:_ No. Actually I agree with Hiro. Shuichi's been amazing these past four years; I couldn't have done what he's done, in the limelight twenty-four seven and I'm glad I stayed in the background while I was still immature talent. We were only teenagers when we started out, arrogant and narrow-minded. We've grown up a lot since then, and I'm not saying it hasn't been fun, of course it has! But fame is hard work for some people and he finally lost his drive.

_Interviewer: _So you don't intend to give up on music yourself? What will you do now that could possibly top Bad Luck's success?

_Sug__uru Fujisaki: _Absolutely not! I'm hoping to start a solo career in the States. Following in Sakuma's footsteps. Something of Bad Luck will still live on for the music fans. Wish me luck guys and remember to keep downloading my tracks even if I can't be here to perform in person. Bad Luck will undoubtedly influence my future work but I always felt like a bit of a stagehand behind Hiro and Shuichi and I knew I was destined for bigger things.

_Interviewer:_ What about you Hiro?

_Hiroshi Nakano:_ Eventually, I reckon I'll go into producing; give Seguchi a run for his money eh? But for now I'd like to spend more time with my wife and the new babi-…oh crap!

_Interviewer_ So Ayaka's expecting?

_Hiroshi Nakano:_ Umm, yeah, the cat's out the bag now. Twins! I just can't control my tongue; I'm so excited, I've told everyone! They're due in March so after that I don't think I'll have much time for music for a while.

_Interviewer:_ How do you feel about becoming a father?

_Hiroshi Nakano_: Excited! But shit scared too! It's quite good that the break up came now because otherwise I'm pretty sure I would have ended it when the babies were born. This way I've got a few months to get sorted first.

_Interviewer:_ There are quite a few hot new bands appearing in the charts this year. Do you have a tip for who will replace you?

_Sugaru_ _Fujisaki_: I'm a massive fan of Condoms and Eggnog's album at the moment; they've got a great mix of techno beats with erotic bass licks and all blended with a stylish reggae lilt. And on tour in Europe last year we were supported by a gifted British band called Next Exit – they were about much more than just sex and teen angst.

_Interviewer: _So this really is the end? Any chance you'll get back together in the future like Nittle Grasper?

_Hiroshi Nakano_: Not quite the end. We've put together a special goodbye track for our loyal fans which is out next Monday and then N-G is releasing a compilation CD of all our number ones which should be ready for Christmas. I won't say no to getting back together but it won't be for a good few years yet. We've all got other things to do in the meantime but it's definitely something I'd be interested in if the opportunity arose.

* * *

_Monday 4__th__ December_

Dear Shuichi,

I never wanted you to sacrifice your career for me! Is it really too late? I understand how important your music is to you and it should never have come to this because of me. This is all my fault.

You don't have to wait for me. You're so stubborn and determined to see this through, but I really want you to believe me when I say I'm not worth waiting for. 35 years is a long time, we don't even know what it feels like to live that long. When I'm 60 and you're 57 we'll never be able to have the same relationship we did and then you'll just regret all those wasted years. I may be innocent but if there's no hope that I can ever get out of here then I'm as good as dead to you. If you're afraid to leave because you'll upset me, I won't deny you'll break my heart, but it's been broken for so long I don't think it could hurt anymore than it already does.

You're not Pierre's father remember, he's practically an orphan. He shouldn't be your responsibility but I'm in no state to take care of him and, although I appreciate it, I think he would be better off in a foster home for all our sakes. You could move on and, I'm not saying I doubt your parenting skills, but I'm sure another family could do just as well. He wouldn't miss me, he never knew me. The more I think about it, I don't think I love him; we never knew each other and I realise that I fell in love with the idea of being a father, not the boy himself. If there's no hope I can be a father to him then I at least want to know that he's being brought up well by someone else.

Please, go and find someone else. Be happy. Forget about me and Pierre. Knowing that you're happy will hurt me less than knowing you're throwing your life away for me.

All my love faithfully and forever,

Eiri.

PS. Wish Pierre a Happy 8th Birthday from me.

* * *

_Monday 5__th__ December_

Dear Eiri,

You're so selfish! You think you're being noble but you're not! You think you're putting my interests first but did you ever think that I don't want to give up on you! I can't just dump Pierre in an orphanage; he's making real progress at school. I guess I sort of think of him as my own son now, he's _ours_. See that? Ours. You and me together. I don't want someone else!

I don't care about Bad Luck anymore. I don't blame you or Pierre. Being here without you made me realise that it wasn't the fame and the music that made me happy, it was you. But because they both came at the same time I never knew which one it was until I lost one. You are much more important to me than music; fame is no substitute for love. Things with Bad Luck would have come to an end anyway: Hiro's twins are due in March and I could tell Fujisaki thought we were stifling his talent. It would have been better if we could have finished on a high note rather than stumbling through the cadence but I'm just glad it's over with.

I'm finding ways to cope; perhaps it's worth getting your nose a little dirty to keep your head clear. My life has been such a disaster over the past year maybe now I'll have time to sort it out.

Has it really only been a year? It feels like ten. On the bright side, only thirty-four more to go.

Pierre's birthday was a beautiful affair. He invited a few close friends from school and we had a simple party with balloons, jelly and ice cream, cake, candles, kid's games and stuff. From the mess they made you'd think I was mad to say it was beautiful but it really was. I saw him play and smile and laugh with boys his own age like he was normal; it was like he almost fitted in. I organised it all myself as well.

Amongst all the happiness though, he couldn't hide a hint of sadness. It was a year since his mother died and I don't think his birthday will ever be really happy again. Always tainted. He was unusually clingy and quiet in the evening after all the kid's had gone; he didn't say anything about it out loud, but he was content just to be held on my lap with my arms around him like we did on those first nights after he came home from the hospital.

The poem is another product of Pierre's "_over active imagination_". What do you think?

Hugs and kisses forever,

Shuichi.

* * *

_Gunfire echoes ringing in his ears_

_He stared out across the barren lands._

_When he'd been young he'd had no fears._

_All this destroyed by man's bare hands?_

_The sun was sinking, staining skies_

_Blood red and orange as fires. _

_A vision vivid, his memory clear_

_Breaking the silent air, that scream so sheer._

_Her body lay so delicate and tender._

_Skin like snow and lips like blood_

_That seeped out from her body slender. _

_That innocent life to a lifeless flood._

_Bitter tears crept into his eyes._

_A loved one lost is a cruel prize. _

By Pierre Camélias-Uesugi


	7. Three Years Later

_**Three Years Later**_

_Saturday 4__th__ December_

Dear Diary,

This is my new diary. My name is Pierre Camélias-Uesugi. I live in Tokyo in Japan. I have blonde hair and grey eyes.

Today is my birthday, I'm 10 years old. But actually I'm only 3. When I was 6 I was very sick and now I don't remember anything before the morning after my 7th birthday. I woke up in the hospital with my Dad and I knew I was a different boy to the one I was before but I don't remember that boy. He's in my name, Camélias, and in the dark spaces in my brain where his memories are supposed to be. He didn't speak Japanese like I do, he spoke French. Sometimes I have dreams about that other boy; I think he had a Mum. I wish I had a Mum but she's dead.

My friends ask me if I'm sad about it but I say I'm not because I don't remember her. You can't miss something you've never had and I don't remember my Mum. I think I might be more sad if I did remember, but I don't, so I don't feel like I've lost anything because there was nothing there to be lost.

I have 2 Dads instead. But one of my Dads is in prison so I don't see him very often. I don't know why, or when he'll get out and I don't want to ask anyone. I asked Uncle Tohma once and he just said _"It was a mistake_", and then he asked me about school so I forgot to ask again. My other Dads name is Shuichi and I love him very much but don't tell him I said that. It's a secret. I can't ever tell him because I think it would make him cry and I don't like it when I upset him. He's not sad all the time. Most of the time he's happy, he makes me laugh, but sometimes he's tearful all day and it only takes a little thing to make him cry.

I'd better stop writing now because my Dad already let me stay up later that usual and he doesn't know I'm still awake writing this. I can hear him moving outside my room.

* * *

_Sunday__ 5__th__ December_

Dear Eiri,

Here is another brief glimpse of the world beyond your cell. I hardly know what to put in these letters anymore, things are pretty dull. I've faded away completely as far as celebrity goes. Life is average, mediocre, ordinary and typically boring. And while I don't have any particular complaints, there's a lot of things I would change.

The other parents in the playground talk to me like a normal guy, like a human being. One of them said the other day that my parents must be grateful for me picking up my little brother every day; I didn't know what to say. Am I Pierre's father? Obviously not biologically, in other ways maybe, but I hate it when it feels like I'm taking your place. He does feel like a little brother sometimes, twenty-five is far too young to father a ten year old. I still don't quite get discipline – it's hard to be harsh when I know what he's been through - and we have fun together at the park and stuff, but I have to be mature and responsible too.

Three years ago if Pierre had asked me to play tag I'd have run round the park until my face was blue and we collapsed on the floor laughing. But he never wanted to play tag and he didn't laugh much either, and now that he does I can't be bothered. I don't have the energy anymore. I put so much into making him happy that I don't care if he is or not. That sounds cruel, I do care about him, I love him! Three years ago, I would have played along, not just because that was what he wanted to do but because I would have enjoyed it too, now I can't remember why I got such a kick out of it before. I can't remember what it feels like to be young and fun. I'm too old and mature. I breathe in a draught of wintry air and it isn't refreshing, it just makes me cold, inside and out.

Sometimes I feel like a pensioner, a widowed pensioner. This must be what grandparents feel like when they take care of their grandchildren. They want to get involved, but they can't understand kids these days, and they don't have the energy. He's not quite mine; we're close enough to be friends, but I'm not a father and there'll always be his real parents who could do a better job than I can. I feel old. The teenage techno-star who led Bad Luck to fame feels like a lifetime ago. I'd do anything to get that back.

No, I wouldn't. I don't miss the pressure or the paparazzi or the humiliating things we did just for a few minutes of airtime. But I miss being just that little bit superior to everyone else. Before it got completely out of hand, nothing could compare to the amazing buzz you get out of being chased down the street by the rabid fangirls for an autograph.

These days I'll smoke, snort, shoot-up, swallow, sniff anything, to feel that little bit supernatural like I used to. I just don't care. There's no point to my life anymore. No one knows who I am, no one cares about me, no one loves me – Pierre doesn't, and even if you meant it that you do it wouldn't make much difference. I don't have my music or fame and everyone else has moved on. They left me behind in a rut, a drug addict bum. I'm not a drug addict, I just need something soft sometimes to get me through the day.

Hugs and kisses forever,

Shuichi.

* * *

_Tuesday 7__th__ December_

Dear Shuichi,

Don't you dare do drugs under my roof or in front of my son! Book yourself into rehab now or I'll stop replying to your letters and you really will have nothing to live for. You don't want to upset me do you? Good boy Shuichi.

If you think there's not much going on out there, there's even less to write about in here. Do you ever proof read what you write? You just drivel on about your boring life and how sad and lonely you are. As far as literary work goes it's utter shite but I love reading it. You're the only person who writes to me now. I got a few Christmas cards this week; a hollow printed message and a signature. But everyone else has moved on. Why wouldn't they? I have no more value in your world than a plant that needs watering or a grave you visit occasionally if you feel guilty. We _are_ stuck in a rut, you're clinging to the past and, I know it's no use telling you to give it up, but you should move on while you're not too old.

I'm forgetting what the outside world is like. The time between each visit or letter gets longer like a new year's resolution that starts well but peters out by February, fading away until its forgotten all together. I'm fading away. The whole world is fading around me. You're all forgetting me and it feels like no one cares. Except for you, I'm almost alone now.

It reminds me of a poem I studied once: It was written by a man who lived in a mental asylum.

_I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,  
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;  
I am the self-consumer of my woes,  
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,  
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;  
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost _

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,  
Into the living sea of waking dreams,  
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,  
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;  
And e'en the dearest-that I loved the best-  
Are strange-...And then I forget the rest. 

I look in the mirror and barely recognise myself. I don't think I look much older than I used to but I can't remember what I did look like. The person in the mirror is just an image and the one outside is just his mind. I lie on my bed and spend so long thinking about nothing and everything that I forget that I even have a body. I think about New York a lot. I think maybe I do deserve to be here; even if I didn't kill Taki and Adéle, I did kill Yuki, and those thugs. I'm serving the punishment I should have done for that. Karma's finally got me, I was just lucky to have another 8 years outside.

All my love faithfully and forever,

Eiri.

* * *

**A/N:** Yet again, I am soo sorry this took soo long! Did you all have a good Christmas? Not only did I keep you waiting for months but it's not even that good. Most of you have pretty much already guessed what's going to happen in the end so it's just a matter of how long I keep you in suspense. It's not exactly nail-biting stuff (although I promise it will get more exciting) and the poem was a bit of a cop out because it's not mine – It really was written by the mad, but brilliant, poet John Clare. 


	8. Six Years Later

_**Chapter 8 - Six Years Later**_

_Thursday 3__rd__ December _

_**The secret den.**_

_My hideout._

_I__t's mine!_

_I found it._

_Finder's keepers!_

_And though I've long outgrown that game,_

_I can't help but feel bitter._

_Younger children leave their mark,_

_Like squatters dropping litter._

_They come, and grow, and play, and go,_

_Like past and future generations._

_They may forget but I still know,_

_We were the first to hold that station._

_Captured in the castle, under siege,_

_Savouring our rationed chocolate biscuits._

_Defending the fairy queen's palace,_

_Like tribal warriors armed with sticks._

_Vaporised by alien invaders,_

_And cured instantly by the medics._

_Bottle caps and loose copper coins,_

_Collected as our pirate gold;_

_I know I am too old. _

_The lintel meets my waist and blocks my way._

_We are both over grown._

_The front door, the back door, windows, skylights,_

_A cat flap, letterbox and chimney._

_Punctured by leafless holes._

_A carpet of grass clippings covers the stones,_

_The brambles, the sweet wrappers, fag butts and broken glass._

_It begins to rain._

_Gusting through the bald patches we called windows._

_Trickling in veins, like vines down the gutter branches._

_Leaves quiver like red Indians' arrows,_

_As their young stems drawback,_

_Straining with the weight of a drip._

_Poised to fire._

_The rain falls relentlessly._

_And that shimmering, silver, rainbow maker_

_Drowns my childhood. _

_By Pierre __Camélias__-Uesugi

* * *

_

_Friday__ 11__th__ December – 11:10pm_

Dear Diary,

I have been thinking again. I do that a lot. Thinking about thinking – that's what I do, like a philosopher. I think about what I think of things, the world, my friends, myself, my brain. How does life work? What, and why, and how do I think the things I do? Does anybody understand that?

My brain doesn't work the same as everybody else's, I realised that this evening. There are bits missing, like it isn't wired up correctly and a whole section is short circuited. It looks fine from the outside, and it works fine for now, but inside a whole seven years are just missing. As hard as I try I can't get to them or describe what it feels like.

There's a box or a book or something but it's locked tight and the key is lost. If no one had ever told me it was there I probably wouldn't have noticed and I wouldn't care about it. I wouldn't want to know what was inside, but everyone is so cautious of it, that's what makes me want to know. I know there must be something inside, something missing, something secret.

I know life went on before I was born but this part wasn't before I was born, I was alive, I lived it, but for all I remember my life begins at seven. I don't mind not knowing what went on before I was born but this is a part of my life that I can't be part of.

I didn't used to think there was anything wrong. It's not like long-term memories are essential to our everyday existence. But this evening I think something leaked out of the box, a thread of a connection between my life and the life of the boy who has been trapped in the box for six years.

I should probably start at the beginning of the story.

Shuichi dropped me off at Ryuta's house for the sleepover a little after 6. "_Are you really sure you'll be OK?_" he said.

"_I'll be fine!_" I replied, a little indignantly but it was his fourth time of asking. "_It's just a couple of boys from school. We'll dial a pizza and watch some unsuitable film and then sleep rough on the floor". _Perhaps I did tweak the details a little – Six, including myself, is hardly a couple and we didn't dial a pizza because Ryuta's mum made it herself. It really was all boys though, I didn't lie about that.

I guess the party only really got started after several bottles of pop and we were all completely hyper from the sugar. Somehow we strayed on to _Truth or Dare_, no story that includes a game of that can ever have a happy ending, right?

"_What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done_?" Asked Akira.

Ryuta paused briefly before squealing with delight as he replied, "_Ooh! I know, I know! When I was four I wet myself onstage at the school nativity play!_"

"_That doesn't count."_ Retorted Yami harshly,_ " If you were, maybe, ten I could understand why it would be embarrassing, but if you were four you were barely even potty trained. You'll have to choose something else._"

"_I weed in the sandpit at playgroup once when I was three!"_ Said Toshikazu "_But it wasn't as bad as when Masamichi, in front of all the guests, at Nan's garden party, in the pond…_" He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe to finish his sentence.

"_Shut up! Yami's right, I was only four so it doesn't count!_" Masamichi blushed and wrestled his brother to the ground fighting to cover his mouth and stop him sharing anymore of his embarrassing memories. I stayed quiet. It was slowly dawning on me that I couldn't remember anything like that. And perhaps that wasn't normal.

"_What about you Pierre? Where's the most embarrassing place you've had an accident?_"

"I_-I don't know. I can't remember…anything._" I muttered slowly.

"_Can't you remember anything at all?__ Even if you try really hard?"_ Asked Toshikazu

I tried really hard. It was like peering into black holes. I couldn't see past the starched cotton sheets of paediatrics. Beyond that there was nothing. A void like the end of the world, or the beginning. Not even blurry, just empty. "_No, there's nothing there._"

"_Weird! Do you remember being a baby?"_

I thought hard. "_No._"

"_Do you remember living in France?_"

Again, "_No._"

"_Do you remember moving to Japan?_"

"_No! Can you quit with the third degree? It's not even my turn and you've asked me like, twenty questions already?!_"

"_Wow! Pierre that's so freaky!_" They were all in awe but I didn't understand why. This is the way it's always been. I'd never realised people could remember things from when they were so young.

Yami interrupted the silence with a sarcastic sneer. "_Maybe there's some suppressed trauma in his past that he's blocking out. Some people can't remember things like bad accidents and stuff. How about it?"_ They all laughed at his silly idea and I forced a laugh too. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. In his blind jest he seemed to touch a nerve, just a twitch in the depths. The others thought he was being downright ridiculous, but to me it meant something. I was glad he lightened the mood though, and diverted their attention from me.

We moved on. Ryuta dared Yami to drink a glass of salty water which he downed without even a flinch. Yami dared Toshikazu to shout a rude word out of the window. Toshikazu asked Masamichi who was the best looking teacher at school. Then it was my turn.

"_Have you ever-" _he paused as he gathered the courage to speak the obscenity, wetted his lips and continued,_ "Have you ever done ess-ee-ex?"._ His tongue lingered lustfully as he spelt out the sinful hiss of the S and the whip crack of the X.

Toshikazu elbowed his brother hard in the ribs and giggled, _"You idiot! What did you go and waste his turn for? He might be a year older than us but he's still far too young to have done, that!_".

Looking back, any normal thirteen year old would have scoffed and said "_As if!"_, then joined in with their childish laughter. My turn would have been over and I would have saved myself the shame that followed even if I hadn't told the _truth_. But I couldn't. I haven't had sex, of course I haven't! That's absurd! But I couldn't just laugh along with them. I guess I didn't see it as a joke like the rest of them did.

By the time all this had gone through my head their laughter had calmed enough to notice my silence. Akira's eyes widened and he gasped, "_Are you kidding!? Have you really?!"_

I jumped suddenly. There was a noise like the creak of a door hinge or a footstep on the floorboards upstairs. I looked at each of their leering faces in turn, every one of their gazes were still focused on me. _"Didn't anyone else here that?"_

"_Stop trying to distract us Pierre. You've got to tell us!" _

"_Seriously? You didn't hear it? Can't you hear it now?_" I asked, because I could still hear it. But it was starting to sound less like a hinge. It was squeaking and whining back and forth like clockwork, over and over again. I had to get out of there. I could feel sweat on my brow and my T-shirt was clinging to me, clinging like a steel corset round my lungs. I couldn't breathe because something was trying to escape from me. I could hear voices but I couldn't tell who was speaking and all their questions were blurring together.

"_Woah, Pierre? Are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost? Uh-oh! I think he's going to be sick! Mum! Mum, quick!"_

The next thing I remember, "_I'm really, really sorry Mrs-_" I spluttered out between retches. Tears were dripping into the pan of the toilet I was kneeling over. I was sure I'd ruined the party, not to mention the cream carpets which Ryuta's Mum was doing her best to hide her upset at.

"_That's alright dear. It's not your fault. Just got a bit over excited, huh? Too much fizzy pop and sugar_." One hand was stroking my back while the other clutched a bottle of antiseptic and the comfort blanket of a dishcloth. All the lights had been switched on and the bathroom door was open so I could feel a draught on my legs which made me shudder. Ryuta's Dad had come downstairs too, she spoke to him as though I wasn't there. "_Can you call his Dad, please, get him to come and pick him up as soon as possible, his numbers on the stand by the phone, do you think we should send the others home too? Do you think it was something they ate? I'd never forgive myself. I don't want a house full if they're infectious. Do you think we'll need to call in a professional to clean the carpets? Should we leave it until the morning? It doesn't half stink though." _Her rant wasn't exactly consoling.

I was glad when my Dad arrived. Ryuta's Mum gave me a washing-up bowl for the journey home and did her best to smile but I could tell from her tone she was desperate to go back inside and inspect the damage.

On the parkway Shuichi pressed the gas all the way to the floor and shifted up to fifth gear but left his hand on the knob of the gear-stick, massaging it with his palm and steering one-handed. There weren't any other cars around. I could see his eyes in the rear-view mirror, flicking between the road and me in the back seat. I couldn't tell if he was cross or not because I couldn't see his face in the dark. Trying to ignore the stabbing pains in my empty stomach, I pulled my legs up to my chest and pressed my knees into my eye sockets to make them water. I didn't know why I wasn't crying, it felt like I should be but I couldn't. I felt so guilty and disgusting but I don't know what I did to deserve it. I could have run to the toilet faster I suppose.

The street lamps were flicking past like strobe lights and the engine was rumbling in my ribcage but it wouldn't stop even when I pressed my hands against my ears to block it out. I felt like a kid on LSD. I've never done LSD, of course I haven't! But we learnt about it in school and if I did do it, I think that's what it would feel like.

When we got home I ran straight into the bathroom and locked the door, more out of instinct than deliberately to keep Shuichi out, but the privacy was nice. I must have blacked-out for a while because I found my head on the floor resting against the cold ceramic bowl and Dad was banging on the door, begging me to unlock it. I stood up carefully because I felt really dizzy and unlocked to door.

He slipped through as soon as it was wide enough and wrapped his arms round me saying "_Thank God you're alright Pierre! I was so-_" but I cut him off and shoved him away. He looked confused and held his hands up in surrender but I wanted a fight.

"_This isn't fair! Why won't you tell me? This- Wh-What's going on? What's wrong with me?!"._ I didn't really know what I wanted to know and I couldn't think straight so I just thumped my palms against his chest trying to force him to understand what was going on in my head. He barely flinched. We may be evenly matched in height now but not in strength. I felt hopeless and weak. I felt faint. And I must have looked it too because as I closed my eyes I felt his hand on my elbow lowering me down to the ground and propping my limp form against the bathtub, still in reach of the toilet.

I took several deep breaths waiting for the pressure in my head to clear and the room to come back into focus. I was too exhausted to make my voice sound angry anymore. I could manage a whisper, hoarse with the acid from my vomit and the tears clogging my throat. "_You're keeping my memories from me. Just tell me what it is._"

He's the only one who can stop me being the way I am. If he would just tell me then I'd understand and I could be normal. He knows what happened. He knows why I'm such a freak.

"_I can't. You don't know how much I wish I could. The doctor said you have to remember in your own time._"

"_So that's it is it? 'Doctor's orders__. No can do Pierre. Tough shit'."_

I've never said a swear word in front of him before but he didn't let it show if he was shocked. He shrugged. "_I promised your Dad I would do as the Doctors said, and if that means not telling you then that's the way it is. 'Tough shit' indeed."_

"_But you do admit you're hiding something. There is something to hide?"_

He gave a guilty sigh and didn't answer. I knew he wasn't going to let anything else slip. I'd already shown I was onto him so it wouldn't matter how much I pleaded. After a minute of silence I stood up, steadying myself on the sink, and left without saying goodnight. And that's where I am now. He stayed in the bathroom on his own for a while and I heard him go back to his room about half-an-hour ago, he's not asleep though, I can see the light's on.

I'll try to tell you what made me sick at Ryuta's party. There were things inside my brain and I couldn't understand them. It was like thoughts from someone else's head, they only make sense to the person who thought them. I don't know if that was me or not.

When I try to think of it I feel hot and thirsty again. I can hear that creaking, like a mattress spring, and it gets closer, or maybe I get closer to it. Everything is dark, not just because it's hard to remember, but because it must have been dark at the time. There is a little light, thin horizontal strips like moonlight streaming through the slats of a window shutter. It weaves across the furniture and the folds of the blankets, gilding all the black shadows with cold grey edges. But for all the light and dark I can't make out any shapes.

If I strain really hard the spring stops, and a girl's voice says cruelly, _"Merde, c'est mon fils. Pierre! Quitter __maintenant__!" _

And then…just writing about it is making me feel sick again. I've got to go…

* * *

_Friday 11__th__ December_

Dear Eiri,

This evening has been eventful. I didn't think it would be because Pierre had a sleepover at a friend's house and I would have been home alone. Alas, he couldn't stick it out, and I got a phone call at half ten asking me to come and pick him up because he'd been sick. He hasn't been himself ever since.

He was doing really well Eiri, I've told you how much he's improved over these past few months, sometimes I even forget what a traumatised fruitcake he was. But I think – I don't want to, but we all knew this was going to happen – he remembers. I don't know how much. Maybe it really is nothing, it could just be a tummy bug. And I don't want to pry into places I'm not wanted in case I bring up something else and make it worse. "_In his own time_" right? I'm scared though. This is unknown territory and I can't face it without you.

He wouldn't speak to me or look at me all the way home and when we got back he locked himself in the bathroom for ages; I was practically kicking the door down to get in and see if he was alright. How can I even try to help him if he doesn't want me to? Then when he did let me in he just pushed me away and whimpered but I couldn't understand what he was asking.

I know he must have remembered something, about the past. He accused me straight up of "_keeping his memories from him_". What am I supposed to say to that? Did I do the right thing? I just said I couldn't because that was what the doctors said. He didn't like it much but he went and sulked alone in his room. Should I have told him? I don't think he could have faced anymore vomiting if that's what it does to him. He nearly fainted earlier and the whole house reeks of it.

Shit. He's at it again.

I've just carried him back to his room. He needs to sleep it off and I think we're past the danger zone now as far as the actual throwing up is concerned because there can't be much left inside him. But then there's a whole other danger zone we're only just approaching. I can't go through it again; the hospital visits, the psychoanalysis, the unexplained fits of violence, the bed wetting, the nightmares, the complaints from school. I thought we were over all that!

When we were in the bathroom, I held his hand – he was probably too weak to complain – and I stroked his wrists, I was just doing my best to comfort him. But before I really knew what I was doing my fingers were tracing lines on his wrists, back and forth like the gliding cuts of an ice-skaters blade. He's been cutting himself Eiri!

I pretended not to notice. I just didn't know what to do.

I was wrong. I thought we were doing well but apparently he's drifting further away than ever. The past is creeping back, only this time it comes with a large helping of vomit and self-harm. He's a teenager and it seems like so long since I've been one of those that I can't remember what it feels like.

I can't understand it! I can't understand him. Why would he do it? I thought he was happy!

If Pierre doesn't want to live anymore then neither do I. He was the only thing worth living for and now I can't understand him. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. How can I possibly pretend I don't know what he's doing?

I have nothing left now.

Hugs and kisses forever and ever and ever,

Shuichi.

* * *

_Friday 11__th__ December – 11:45pm_

Oh no, oh no! What am I supposed to do now?

Shuichi and I were in the bathroom together, and I was throwing up again, and suddenly he drew his hand away from my wrist like it was white-hot. I looked down to see why and he'd seen my scars. I hadn't thought to cover them up like I usually do.

I knew he must have noticed them but he didn't say anything or ask me. It might have been better if he had. Then I could have explained that it wasn't his fault. I can't imagine what must have been going through his head. He played it cool, and I acted like I was too tired to talk. I _am_ exhausted, but I can't sleep because If I do there might be memories in my nightmares that I'm not supposed to see. I don't want to see anything if it'll make me sick again.

I really hope he doesn't think it's because of him. It's been months since I did it. In fact, it's because I found that I could open up to him that I stopped! Maybe I should go to his room and explain. But then again, he might not have seen after all, I could have just imagined his reaction, and I'd hate to bring it up unnecessarily. I'll see how he is in the morning.

Plus, it serves him right if he does think it's his fault, he's no better than me. I know he's on the crack again. He told me he was clean but I could smell it in the car. That was probably what made me feel so ill on the way home actually.

And so ends my account of the worst sleepover ever. Over and out.

* * *

_Morning Newspaper - __Tuesday 15__th__ December _

DOUBLE THE OVERDOSE

Novelist and Former Rock Star in Simultaneous Suicide Attempt

A couple have been hospitalised after overdosing on the same night despite living separately and contacting each other through letters over several years. The infamous yet charming romance novelist Yuki Eiri (31) has been serving a jail sentence for the murder of his former partner Adèle Camélias and her fiancé at the time, Taki Aizawa, for the past six years. His partner Shuichi Shindou (27), lead singer of Bad Luck, was left to take care of Yuki's son - his child with the deceased - after his sentencing although social services are reconsidering his suitability to take care of the child after such a display of mental instability.

Shindou was discovered by the 13 year old boy, who cannot be named for legal reasons, in the early hours of Saturday morning, when he awoke feeling unwell. The boy called an ambulance immediately to the unconscious singer and medics say his fortunate timing may have saved his adoptive father's life. He is currently staying with his Aunt and Uncle who say he anxiously anticipates news from the hospital.

Police are baffled not only by the seemingly spontaneous and simultaneous overdoses but by why the couple would wait so long before taking their lives when their story had long since faded from the public interest and they had already suffered six years of separation.

Yuki's correspondence with the outside had been closely monitored over the past few months as he showed signs of severe depression and suicidal tendencies. Staff at the prison suspect that he had been hoarding sedatives prescribed by his psychiatrist in his cell whereas Shindou took a more conventional method of overdosing on cocaine. Their recovery in intensive care over the next 24 hours is still critical although doctors say it is highly likely both will survive this ordeal.

This case undoubtedly serves as a reminder of the drain on our country's resources for the accommodation and care of prisoners which pushes our taxes ever higher. Why should our money be spent on keeping a murderer alive who would have been on death's row long ago in many countries across the world? When he is deemed fit enough, Yuki will return to the prison where he will serve the remaining 29 years of his sentence.

* * *

**A/N: **Hey! Long time no see yet again. Sorry, I've had exams, which went reasonably well I think, and my university interview which I heard today I got a place! Yey! So I felt safe to spend some time on this. Thank you so much for all your lovely lovely reviews, 11 for the last chapter!! That's a new record! Did I mention that I love you all? I hope this insanely long chapter has made up for my absence and the fact that Eiri is still not out of jail... 


	9. Ten Years Later

Disclaimer

I don't own Gravitation

_**Chapter 9 - **__**Ten Years Later**_

_Friday 4__th__ December _

Dear Diary,

Have you ever had that feeling when you suddenly understand something you've known all your life and everything is different? That happened to me today; It's like Uncle Tohma's proverbs – "_It's always in the last place you look_" because once you've found it you stop looking, and "_Tomorrow is the start of the rest of our lives_" because every new day is the start of the future.

I knew my mum died, but I didn't know she was murdered. And I knew I was sick when I was six, but I didn't realise I had Traumatic Psychogenic Amnesia…OK, I looked that up.

I left college with Rika and she asked me if I wanted to get a hot chocolate on the way home but I said I had things to do. What is it about a crush that makes you seem to deliberately avoid the person you like? Any other day I'd have gone with her but there's something that's been on my mind for months now and I'm pretty sure seventeen is old enough to find out the answers myself.

"_Have a good weekend then.__ Oh, and Happy Birthday!". _Maybe it's just because I like her, but I swear she blushed when she said it. She's not like other girls; she's not all curling tongs and lip-gloss and when they're sucking the faces of their boyfriends in the corridors she's the one that says "_Get a room!_". She doesn't call me a soppy faggot for writing poetry like they do, she says it's sweet.

I went to the cemetery. You must think I'm mad to have turned down Rika for that but I couldn't wait any longer. I wasn't in the mood for chatting either. I knew who I was looking for. Her surname should be the same as mine, Camélias, which is pretty unusual in Japan and she died ten years ago today.

The cemetery isn't too far to walk from the college; it's just next to the theatre and backs onto the river. Nevertheless, the light fades so quickly these days a dark haze of twilight was bleeding up from one side of the horizon when I got there. An eerie mist was seeping over the riverbanks and at the far end a huge willow tree with drooping tendrils covered in white crystals was breathing gently in the icy breeze. Just like a horror movie. The whole field looked untouched by the sunlight that had melted the frost everywhere else.

There was only one other person in the graveyard when I was there. She was about 25, give or take a few years, wearing a black polo-neck sweater pulled up high under her chin against the cold and patent crocodile-skin stiletto heels which gave her an air of unsophisticated glamour like a teenager who had been forced to grow up too fast. Her hair was long and running freely down the back of her coat except for a blunt fringe that fell just above a pair of glasses with thick orange rims and behind the lenses her eyes were deep brown, turned down at the corners from the weight of tears that had fallen from them.

The woman was sat on one of the stones gazing sombrely at the grave opposite. I walked passed her several times as I proceeded up and down the cold stone corridors. I knew the grave she was looking at must be near my Mum's because they were organised chronologically according to the date of death. Then I realised, she was sitting on it! I thought maybe I should wait until she left, I didn't want to be rude, and she was already giving me funny looks because I'd walked past her so many times. But she was sitting on my Mum's grave! If anyone was being rude it was her!

I didn't have to say more than "E_xcuse me_" and she got the picture. She stood up hastily and apologised, dropping loose leaves from the book she was holding in her panic.

A plain grey stone stood at the base of a tree beneath the shade of its leafless spindle-clawed limbs whose sparse stems stretched desperately towards the greying sky. Rays of hollow setting sunlight shone through the naked branches, the kind of light that blinds your eyes and leaves you cold. I didn't know what to do after that. There was nothing to do. It was just a stone like any other paving slab, save the name which didn't mean anything to me.

I read the inscription over and over but there was nothing to it, just words scratched into the surface. It read "_Beloved Mother", _which is ironic because I was her only child and I don't remember ever loving her. I don't remember her at all. I thought I might have felt sad but I didn't feel anything, just empty and numb and disappointed. Then I felt kind of stupid; embarrassed, like I shouldn't be there.

I looked at the woman to see if she would give me a clue what I was supposed to be doing. She was rearranging the pages of her book and looked up to see me watching her. It was odd how we'd only met seconds ago but she knew immediately what I was going to ask and we struck up a conversation like old friends.

"_Just a Scrapbook, my brother and his band stuff." _Her eyes flicked towards the grave. "_I kept it all. Posters, flyers, tickets from their gigs, album artwork, reviews of their music. It became a bit of an obsession so I couldn't help but keep all the stuff about the trial too. That's a bit twisted, isn't it?"_ She sighed with a nervous laugh as she picked up more clippings from where they had fluttered among the powdered sawdust of crushed autumn leaves.

"_The trial?"_ I asked. She turned the pages and I caught glimpses of headlines - "_AUGUST'S BREAKING ACTS_", "_ASK – THESE GUYS ARE BEGGING FOR FAME_", "_AIZAWA IN CAR COLLISION!_" – stopping on a slightly faded double-spread cut from a magazine.

There was a full-page photograph accompanying the article; a young couple in a café, a man with black hair and deep brown eyes like Naomi, and a woman with limp auburn curls and empty grey eyes, just like mine. It wasn't because I recognised her, but I almost knew she was my Mum even before I read the article.

* * *

_Celebrity Scoop Magazine! _

_THE MISSING CHAPTERS_

_The Secret Pages Yuki Eiri Left out of His Autobiography_

_Former controversial romance novelist, Yuki Eiri, relinquished his position at the top of the best-selling rankings nearly six months ago with the demise of "Lover is a Cheap Title" but it would appear there is much more to this tear-jerking sob story which he chose not to disclose to the public – and with good reason. _

_Since his autobiography published his tragic history of abuse and a broken family there has always been a question circulating; how could a man with such a traumatic past be so good-natured? Could all those charming smiles have been a façade covering the disturbed mental state of a lecherous libertine? A whorehound? An adulterer? A paedophile? A rapist? No, your eyes are not deceiving you. These secrets are sure to keep you turning the pages of his missing chapters._

_Adèle Camélias sat tensely opposite me in a Tokyo Restaurant supported by her boyfriend and ex-lead singer of short lived rock band ASK, Taki Aizawa, as she prepared to tell her story. A broken woman of just 22, trembling visibly as she clutched a humble glass of water that reflected her empty grey eyes. She was clearly devastated by her catastrophic associations with the successful novelist; one of many victims who fell for his seductive charisma as he travelled the womanising circuits of not only this county, but America and Europe as well. Abandoned by her family at just 16 and pregnant with the illegitimate son of Yuki Eiri she had no option but to turn to prostitution._

_It would have to be a heartless man to be capable of leaving such an adorable boy as Pierre to a life of crime and squalor; regardless of the fact he was his own son. Strapped for cash, Adèle even shamefully confessed to teaching her son to pickpocket and using him to distract attention from the far more culpable crimes that occurred in their rundown Parisian apartment. All this suffering can be traced back to its roots in Yuki Eiri's reckless promiscuity and who knows how many more women are in a similar situation? Broken-hearted and discarded._

_Aizawa is also no stranger to the destruction caused by this man's actions. He revealed that earlier this year after Yuki's mysterious disappearance he took on a job at the Imperial College as a professor of Literature and dropped his alias to reveal his horrifying true personality. Shockingly, Taki claims that his younger sister, Naomi (16) a student of the college where Yuki assumed his teaching position, was taken advantage of by the older man who sexually abused her until his behaviour culminated in her rape at a friend's wedding. "She was so innocent." He told reporters furiously, "She trusted him faithfully, an easy target for such a devious and perverted predator".

* * *

_

She watched me the whole time I was reading but I didn't care. This piece of paper, her scrapbook, was everything that was missing from my life. It was like an explosion of revelation, stripping away all the confusion that had shrouded my history up until now.

First, I was furious with Shuichi for not telling me the truth but then I was kind of grateful because I don't think I could have handled it if I'd been any younger. And I was sad, because my Mum died and I sort of remember who she was now, but I wasn't _very_ sad because I've already grieved, if you see what I mean; it's a strange feeling, to have come to terms with something before you even knew exactly what it was you had to face. Everything in my life was fitting together and my thoughts were swimming like a goldfish in a washing machine. Then, on top of all of that, I had a seven year back log of memories to process.

That was when it all came back to me. The missing seven years of my life…Not all at once though.

I wanted to write it all down so it didn't slip away like a dead dream when you wake up in the morning. Everything _did_ feel like a dream, I wasn't sure which thoughts were really mine anymore.

I never really knew who I was before. My head was a jigsaw puzzle with lots of missing pieces that rattled if you shook it. I guess I've always been distant and confused and people thought I was stupid, but it's hard to know where you are or where you're going when you don't know where you came from. I finally know who I am; I'm the illegitimate son of a French prostitute! I don't care how filthy that sounds, I'm still happy.

I could see things in my past, memories starting to emerge from the dark spaces: Pick pocketing on the streets of Paris, the first time I met Shuichi, sometimes I was home alone, others I was locked in my room. I know what I remembered at Ryuta's party four years ago now, I interrupted her doing her "business"; it makes me shudder to think of it.

That man in the picture, I'd met him before too. He was nice, he used to play with me, we shared secrets. I could hear his voice shouting in the distance. He was arguing. With a woman, downstairs perhaps. I shut my eyes, straining to see more clearly where I was. There was an arm around my shoulder. A girl. She looked after me. His sister. Naomi. My thoughts were flooding in all in the wrong order. She was beside me again.

I looked up from the book suddenly and saw a tear slide down her cheek too fast to be caught as she fumbled for her handkerchief. My hands were shivering and my eyes were watering too, but it was probably just the cold.

"_I- I know, who, you are."_ She spoke slowly, saying exactly what I was thinking. "_You're that boy, __Adèle__'s boy I mean, Yuki Eiri's son."_

I shook my head. "_I can't be. My Dad's name is Eiri Uesugi. I don't know any Yuki Eiri. Well, actually I do. We study his books in college."_

It was her turn to shake her head. "_Yuki is his pen name_."

My head was hurting too much to think about what that meant. "Wow! _I guess that must be why I'm so good at writing."_ My throat gave a tight spasm, something which might have been close to a chuckle in a situation less fraught with desperation. As more of my thoughts slowly filtered into place I started to comprehend my place in this strange history which I have never been allowed to be a part of. My voice took on a dark, commanding tone which shocked even me but it still couldn't hide the breaking syllables in my words as I fought to keep my speech steady and the tears back.

"_Seriously though, is it true? W-what the article says. Did he really ra- rape, you?"_

She didn't reply but looked down at the ground shamefully. In the deathly silence between us the only sign that reminded us we were still alive amongst the graves was the soft clouds of vapour flowing from our mouths with every heavy breath.

And after a pregnant pause, "_Taki lied about it all. It wasn't true, but he always said he was doing it because it was best for us. And then -" _She turned to another article as though ten years on the pain was still too raw to speak of.

* * *

_Morning Newspaper _

_A FALLEN STAR_

_Former Rock Star and Girlfriend Found Dead in Own Home_

_Police officers were called to a house in suburban Tokyo late yesterday evening where a young couple were found dead and a small boy injured after what appeared to be a malicious assault. The male victim is believed to be Taki Aizawa, the lead singer of ASK; a band who experienced a short period of success three years ago but which came to a sudden and mysterious termination, the circumstances of which are still unknown, when they were dropped from N-G Records on the brink of fame._

_Aizawa (25) suffered sever head injuries most likely inflicted by a fall down the flight of stairs he was found at the foot of. Adèle Camélias (22), his partner, died of as a result of a fatal stab wound to the abdomen although her son escaped relatively unscathed._

_Their deaths are being treated as highly suspicious and police are currently searching for anyone who may have seen the attack. However, they are hindered by key witnesses who have yet to come forward and an appeal was issued today for any information relevant to these enquiries particularly regarding the whereabouts of Aizawa's sixteen year old sister, Naomi, who was last seen leaving college on the afternoon of her brother's death._

_Medical staff at Jutendo Hospital have confirmed that Adèle's son is recovering well in hospital despite significant psychological trauma and suspected sexual abuse. Police are questioning one suspect who cannot be named for legal reasons. The investigation continues.

* * *

_

Enough missing pieces and memories had mapped together by this point. I didn't shout, but I didn't need to; "_You can get him out can't you!? You know what really happened! It wasn't Yuki, my Dad, that killed them. Was it?"_

"_I can't do it!"_ she looked like she might cry again.

"_Who was it!? Who did it!?"_ I was livid, but I wasn't sure who with yet. She flinched and cowered like I was torturing her for information, which I guess I was.

"_Taki. Taki did it. __Adèle __caught him, caught him with you_. _He shouldn't have- so, so she attacked him. But he was too strong for her. She tried to stab him, bu- but he, he turned the knife on her-"_

I could see them through the gap of the partly closed door where I was watching. The knife in her hand, his hand on her wrist. Bones twisting and splintering she fought to keep him away, but she was too weak, slumping helplessly against the wall as he took the weapon from her broken hand. "_What about your brother? Did she push him?"_

"_No. I did! Not hard! But the stairs were behind him. I tried to save your Mum, I really did. He would have killed me too if I- If I hadn't-"_ She could barely breathe through her violent sobs. "_When I saw him land at the bottom I fled. I never looked back, I'm sorry I left you. But you shouldn't be friends with me. I'm a- a murderer!" _

"_It was self-defence!"_ I yelled back. I knew she was upset but I couldn't help myself, "_My Dad, an innocent man, has been in prison for ten years, because you, you're a stupid coward! I've never even met him!" _

She seemed to finally realise the full repercussions of what she had done. She calmed down enough to say, "_Even if I'm not a murderer, I'll still be in trouble for withholding evidence, I'm sorry, I can't do it." _

How could she be so blind?! I know what it means to feel your blood boil now, I've never been so furious. "_Maybe it would serve you right! You make me sick! I'm begging you: It was a long time ago, you were young, you were defending yourself. Do it for me. Do it for Yuki Eiri!"_

She gave a small, silent nod, that would move mountains.

* * *

_Friday 4__th__ December _

Dear Eiri,

Oh Eiri! I don't know how to say this! It's just too exciting to be real!! There's a limit to the number of exclamation marks you can put in writing but I can't describe it any other way. By the time you get this letter you'll probably know what I'm about to tell you anyway. And even if you did get it you wouldn't be able to read it because my hand is shaking so much and I'm writing so fast it's barely legible, my handwriting was never great at the best of times.

Wow! Oh Eiri. I'm so happy but scared too, it's too good to be true. It doesn't feel real. I don't think it's safe to believe it yet. What if it all falls through? It's like we're finally passing out of the eye of the storm but we still have a battle to go. But, maybe, if we're lucky, it could all be over soon. I don't think I'm ready for that. I've waited more than ten years for something like this to happen and now I'm not ready!? Don't get me wrong, I want you home more than anything in the world. But we've been apart longer than we were ever together and it's been so long, what if we can't make it work?

Pierre came home from college with the most amazing news. I mean literally life changing stuff. I know, I know, get on with it Shuichi. I kind of want to do a big dramatic build up but I also can't wait to tell you. Naomi's back!!

Sorry. If my handwriting wasn't bad enough already it's now splotched with tears and the ink is running. They're happy tears though, I promise you that. I haven't felt this happy since…I can't even remember. I was on the phone to Tohma this evening and he says they'll have to re-open the case. She's agreed to give evidence and everyone will know it wasn't you. They'll have to let you out now, won't they?

I can't help thinking though, what took her so long? I'm sure she has her reasons but she could have saved us a whole lot of pain and misery if she'd just had the guts to do it sooner. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive her for that.

Love and Kisses,

Shuichi.

**A/N:** Err…well, what can I say? YAY!! Did anyone notice most of this chapter took place between two original characters…


	10. One Week Later II

**A/N: **And after that embarrassingly long pause, buckle up for the final instalment!

_**Chapter 10 - **__**One Week Later**_

_Celebrity Scoop Magazine! - __Friday 11__th__ December_

YUKI RELEASED!

Almost Ten Years After Imprisonment, Yuki Eiri's Murder Conviction is Overturned

The memory of Yuki Eiri's face as, with an expression of futile resentment, he reconciled himself to his thirty-five year prison sentence is one that has haunted his fans ever since. The conviction of the charming yet notorious star was a shocking revelation as even his partner and brother-in-law faithfully believed in his plea of innocence to the bitter end. However, it seems they may have been right to do so as, with the mysterious reappearance of a key witness and new evidence, his guilty verdict was quashed and he walked free after a decade behind bars.

In his prime, Yuki was tipped among respected critics as one of the hottest young writers, not only for his good looks but his romance novels too. Nevertheless, with several awards and bestselling titles under his belt he was still unsatisfied so embarked on his infamous relationship with rock star boyfriend Shuichi Shindou (33) – former lead singer of legendary band Bad luck. Who would have guessed that this would trigger a catastrophic turn of events ending in his tragic downfall? At 25 he seemed to crack under the stress of the limelight and, after publishing his autobiography, he disappeared from the pages of the tabloids. The pair hit headlines most recently four years ago when they mystified police with their simultaneous suicide attempt, surely this should have been heeded as a last desperate appeal against his wrongful imprisonment?

On the 4th March ten years ago Yuki was convicted of the murders of Adèle Camélias and Taki Aizawa, crimes fuelled by a long standing rivalry between the men and finally sparked by a row over Aizawa's relationship with Camélias: his ex-girlfriend and the mother of his son. The couple were discovered by the accused within minutes of their deaths; Aizawa having suffered brain haemorrhaging due to a fall down a flight of stairs and Camélias a fatal stab wound to her abdomen. Their injuries were consistent with forensic reports which revealed Yuki's DNA on both bodies and the weapon. The case was closed after an arduous trial lasting three months and, despite the lack of witness testimonies, he was sentenced.

The judge who presided over the case (who has since retired but wishes not to be identified) admitted in a statement that his decision may not have been flawless: "_There was a great deal of pressure from the media and public to reach a conclusion. Given the lack of testimonies I see in hindsight that it was an unwise decision to make and I am sure I speak on behalf of the jury when I say we were all misguided by the glamour of such a high-profile case. I can do nothing more that offer my sincerest apologies for the trouble caused to this talented young man."_

Naomi Aizawa (26), sister of the deceased, proved to be the missing piece of the puzzle that finally allowed the case to reach its proper verdict. At the time of the trial appeals were made to find her as her account of events could have been vital to proceedings although she never came forward and the case was closed without her. After ten years in hiding, her recent unexplained reappearance brought to light new evidence that allowed the trial to be reopened for her to provide the lost testimony which exonerated Yuki's charges.

She claimed that Camélias had in fact been murdered by Aizawa when she disturbed him molesting her seven year old son. Naomi, 16 at the time, also said she tried to help the dying woman but found herself the next target of her brother's deluded rampage. In self-defence she pushed him away causing him to fall down the flight of stairs and endure severe head trauma. _"I was afraid to come forward in case I was accused of murdering my brother!"_ She said in court today.

Outside the court the crowds who gathered to greet the star were significantly diminished and the mood was one of sombre reprieve compared to the day he left our world for a decade of solitude: A world which has moved on since his imprisonment in search of new and greater writing talent leaving only a smattering of loyal readers who had always believed the judges ruling to be wrong. Among those who waited to see his release were several close family and friends. Shuichi Shindou, barely recognisable having exchanged his eccentric pink mop for a more sophisticated black, stood with his adoptive son Pierre, the child of Yuki and Camélias. The boy was just seven at the time of his mother's murder and father's imprisonment but has grown to bare an uncanny resemblance to the novelist despite loosing his memory of the incident and his life before it. Shindou's former band mate Nakano Hiroshi (33) was joined by his wife and their four children and, although busy with his stateside solo career, we were informed that Fujisaki sent his best regards. Eiri's brother Tatsuha, Sister Mika and her husband Tohma Seguchi were also there with their 2 children.

When at last Yuki stepped through the revolving glass doors accompanied by his lawyer the spectators fell silent except for the occasional click and flash of a camera. He maintained his composure as he stood silently as the top of the court steps and looked round the crowd taking in the full-extent of his surroundings. Like a soldier returning from war, not with a triumphant cheer, but humbled and scarred by battle scenes. At long last he was hit by the vast impact of his ordeal and the release he had almost given up hope of; he fell to his knees trembling.

Shuichi was first to break the tense quiet as he burst though the line of reporters with a distressed cry and knelt by his lover on the filthy concrete. As they nestled their heads in each other's necks to hide their tears it was a moment that moistened the eyes of even the most hardnosed journalist; a couple reunited after a decade of cruel separation.

I couldn't bear to watch anymore, which is why I must cut this article short and turn your prying eyes away. You have all the archive details you could ever want but there are some things that should to be kept private. These people are not the novelist and rockstar you once knew; they cannot even be called celebrities anymore – a title which in this perverse world we feel gives us the right to ogle their every move. They are just two humans who have a right to dignity like everybody else. I have seen too many fallen stars, too many fractured families, too many shattered lives and too many broken hearts to go on coldly documenting this under the pretence of "_news_".

They'll never publish this, but I don't care. I quit.

* * *

_Friday 11__th__ December_

Dear Eiri,

I don't know why I'm writing this when you're just in the room next door. I thought it might be easier to write down how I felt because I can't seem to get the words out when you're there in front of me. To be honest, now that I've got a pen in my hand it isn't any different. I still think this is harder to describe than anything I've said in any of my letters before. My Eiri is here with me! You're here in our house with our boy! It all feels like a dream. My arms are sore from pinching myself. I'm beyond ecstasy.

_That's good to hear.__ I hope you're beyond crack and all the other dope too._

I can't believe it. I can't believe you're really, actually, truly, finally here. It's like I'm grieving the wrong way around; I'm backwardly bereaved, because I haven't lost someone, I've found you! We walk past each other and I want to do a double take. It's like déjà vu in reverse: All these memories should have been here along time ago and at last they are. This is all such a beautiful, beautiful dream.

_What are you? A soppy girl? I think I liked my prison pals better. At least they had some masculine dignity. _

Right now, you're sitting with Pierre, on the sofa, in the lounge, of our house. I've waited so long to see that sight. I've never seen a father and son so perfect to be together. But I'm not jealous, I can have you to myself later. I didn't realise he was taller that you. Gaijin blood I guess. He's been taller than me for years but I forgot that at six foot three he'd easily over take you too! He's still as skinny as a bean sprout though.

I was so scared Eiri. Scared that something would go wrong. This whole mess was one massive mistake in the first place so there was nothing to say it wouldn't get messed up again. There were so many things that didn't go right. But it is right now, this is justice at last. As soon as I saw you I knew everything would be alright.

I couldn't cry at the court. I know all the papers think I did and they were all expecting a heart wrenching reunion but I couldn't. Partly, I didn't want to give them what they wanted, I didn't want to let them know they'd broken us, but mostly because there's nothing left in me. I've cried more tears than most people cry in a lifetime so they're all used up. I couldn't make a scene: I used to think I had to, because if I didn't show how I felt on the outside how would people know? It's just attention seeking and irrational. I was a romantic fool. I know how I feel inside. I know I love you. That's what matters most.

_Now you're starting so see things from my perspective at last. Although, tears aren't so bad, I'd hate for you to be a cold-hearted bastard like me. I do quite like the__ irrational romantic fool in you; he was the one who gave up everything to wait for me. _

I finally think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a bad thing that I waited so long.

Love and Kisses Forever, _and ever and ever_

Shuichi _and Eiri_

* * *

_Friday 11__th__ December_

Dear Diary,

My name is Pierre Uesugi. I really am 17 years old because I remember each of the 17 years and one week preceding the current date. I'm not delusional, or lost, and there aren't bits of me missing anymore. I was born on the 4th of December in Paris as the illegitimate son of Adèle and for the first 7 years of my life she worked as a prostitute. There wasn't much money to spare, my pocket money was quite literally what I could pick out of people's pockets.

I loved my mum. I know what she did was illegal but we don't pick out friends based on their criminal records. Doing something wrong doesn't make someone a bad person. It didn't matter to me then and it doesn't now, because she did it all for me. She could have given me up for adoption and I could have grown up with some model middle-class family, or she could have had an abortion and got on with her life. But she kept me. And I love her for that. I'm not supporting sleeping with people for cash, of course I'm not, that's absurd. But she didn't do it because she wanted to; she did it because she loved me.

There were bad times. Money was always tight and she used to lock me in my room when she was working but she was protecting me. It didn't make sense when I was 7 or 13 or even 16, but at last I can see the whole picture and I understand. She really is my "_Beloved mother_".

Everything in my life changed when Eiri and Shuichi came. We moved to Japan and things so terrible happened that my brain had to block them out until I was old enough to understand. There was a man who saved me, he carried me out of that house like a hero carrying a damsel in distress from a burning castle. But someone took him away. Within a few weeks of moving here my Mum was dead and my Dad was in prison for killing her which he didn't.

So the boy with no past and no parents tried to live a normal life and just in case he wasn't lonely enough with no family or real friends his second Dad tried to kill himself. Things were pretty screwed up back then.

But now, things are looking brighter as I enter the third chapter of my life. It's a strange feeling to meet someone you've never met before and all along they've been there inside you. I try to think who he reminds me of, and then I realise, he's like me. We are still finding our feet and getting to know each other but I think everything is going to be alright. It's a good feeling. He's not quite a hero, just a fairly normal guy – apart from being a famous novelist and having spent the last 10 years in jail for murder – but sometimes it only takes a normal person to change someone's life.

Yours Sincerely,

Pierre Uesugi

* * *

**A/N:** In case you didn't get what was going on in Shuichi's letter I was trying to show that he wrote to Eiri and then Eiri found it and wrote his reply in between the lines which is why some bits are in italics but its hard to do on a computer.

Just a few final things from me. First some thank-yous of course: To everyone who has read or reviewed this, you are all stars especially T.O.C.A, Captara, OrangePencils, Capricorn2645, Win and Anna. I love you all :-D

I've learned my lesson for leaving things too vague and ended up writing a sequel that is now longer than the original story! I hope you're not too sad that it's over. I am :-(

One last note about the structure; writing in stories in letters is nothing new and it's not my original idea – it even has a special name, "epistolary convention" (nerdy I know) and they've been doing it since Victorian times so I won't feel bad if you want to do the same. It's a really fun way to write and get inside the character's heads and I'd actually quite like to read someone else's take on it so please let me know if you do.

Lots and lots of love

From Freundlich Fizzo.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x


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